


Esteemed Malevolence

by MissAtropine



Series: Malice Without End [1]
Category: Sweeney Todd (2007)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Dark, Death, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gothic, Horror, Lust, Murder, Romance, Sex, Sweenett, Unconventional Relationship, Victorian, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-10-09 06:18:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 44
Words: 184,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10405827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissAtropine/pseuds/MissAtropine
Summary: Act 1 of 2. After Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett form a much needed truce, Nellie has trouble sticking to their promise. Soon they appear to be spiralling down into a changeless life of blood-lust, temptation and murder... Will they ever break free from their macabre deeds and secretive acts of violence? Or has it been weaved into them both to never disappear? Dark Sweenett.





	1. Bottles Filled With Anger

Mrs Lovett was delusional, devoted and dazedly in love with the barber she slaved herself to the bone for in that dreadful bake house. Clearly, being so selfish and single minded, the murderous man never once thanked her for what she did for him. Not when she'd climb those steep stairs (even in deep snow) to set a tray of food down for him. Not when she'd wash the flaked, grisly blood out of his clothes or mend any torn shirts that he'd acquired from his bloodthirsty act. And of course, certainly not when she worked down in the bake house until god knows what hour to chop up the kills he'd gotten that day.

Yet he would occasionally moan about etiquette to her whenever he rarely spoke. Even though that was entirely hypocritical of him since he never damn used his! "Whatever happened to manners in this world?" he would often comment whenever he found his voice, not wanting an actual answer from her, or at least he blocked her reply out if he did get one.

The fact she was receiving less recognition every day that went by, really grated on her nerves - in the last week he had grunted less and less, until he never even hummed for her to continue jabbering on. So, she'd just huffed and stormed out of his room, making sure she let the door slam to make that infernal bell ring his ears.

But don't think she was an innocent little mouse in all of this.

She _always_ got her own back. Of course, to any bystander she seemed to just slave away for him and live most of her life in her expectant daydreams that she always had, yet she would always find a way of getting her own revenge on him. Even if it would be the tiniest thing.

And nine times out of ten, Sweeney Todd was utterly oblivious to her scheming ways.

To him, she was a dizzy, ditsy baker who just did... whatever she did, because he never paid any attention to what she actually _did_ with her life. Yet little did he know, that if he scratched at that innocent, dreamy surface she plastered on every day, it would reveal a whole new person to him...

... someone who was _clever_ , cunning and calculating, rather like he was. However she was quicker than him to express her ideas, which more often than not involved something unorthodox and inhuman; yet this was not always a blessed gift, as it got her into some right palavers with what she often let out of her mouth or even when she let her mind wander...

And sometimes, particular feelings she had would then be bottled up and stored away inside her, unseen for anyone's preaching eyes. But from time to time, these feelings would re-emerge, stirring a whole rush of that particular emotion in a single sonic wave all the way through her.

And all of the irritation, this fury she had always held back from the barber, had one day reached her bottle's top...

And for once, that very bottle top was blown clean off.

"Brought some hot tea for ya love." she said, tray with a precariously placed teapot on it in one hand, the other hand closed the door caringly, ensuring that there was no noise to disturb the barber. "I made sure it wasn't too hot, I know y'don't like it when it's awful hot."

He didn't say a word as he stared out of his clear panes, his arm rested on the edge of the window frame, as he narrowed his eyes over the murky, mucky London skyline. She set the tray on his desk, cautiously moving some objects on his vanity to place it there.

After doing so, Eleanor turned, hands on her hips as she rolled her eyes at him.

Oh, surprise _surprise._

It was the same old bloody Sweeney Todd routine: She leaves the tray. She stands. He doesn't move, doesn't say a word. She attempts to have a conversation. He (up until recently) grunts along yet is truly deaf to her. She sighs. She knows she's not wanted. She leaves him in peace.

Yet today, she'd just about had enough of this habitual get up.

Eleanor scowled and scoffed, marching towards him with heavy, confident steps to alert him that there was to be a _change_ in the schedule. She bit her lip to stop a smirk reaching her lips when she noticed his back stiffen.

Her hands balled into fists and her expressive chestnut eyes toughened into hard nails as they fiercely hammered into the back of his neck. She halted with two inches between the two of them, yet he still hadn't turned.

"Whatever happened to _manners_ in this world Mr Todd?!" she mocked, in a threatening tone that was so unexpectedly snide that Mr Todd's eyes actually widened and his mouth opened in a little half 'O' of surprise. "Surely the world would be a better place if we _all_ used 'em!"

In a blink, he had swivelled to face her, a strange emotion on his face. It was a mix of shock, surprise and unfortunate amazement. He looked almost... _proud_ of what he was seeing her do one moment and then in the next he looked totally confused.

"Don't you _dare_ look at me _now_!" she bellowed lowly, fury and stress being unleashed in an erratic wave towards him, fist shaking close to his head. "After all this bloody time, I actually 'ave to make myself _angry_ just t'make you _look_ at me!"

Sweeney opened his mouth wider, like he was about to actually speak.

"Oh! _And_ talkin' _too_ are we?! Well look at that! Looks like you're _not_ mute after all!" she drawled, waving her arms about at him in a frenzied manner. "You have _no idea_ how much 'o my life is taken up by _you!_ You think I don't mind, but I _do_! I _do_ mind when I'm never damn thanked! I _do_ mindwhen you don't even bother to look at me, or say good mornin'! You annoy me to the brink of _suicide_ some days! You abuse me! You ignore me! You treat me like I'm nothin' 'part from another particle of air! An' you _constantly_ crush me dreams - and y'know the funniest thing 'bout it?! You don't even know you're bloody doin' it! Most people would never put up with such... _shit._ And 'eaven knows _I_ shouldn't!"

He felt like he should speak but found himself waiting for more, like he was too engrossed by what he was hearing to butt in now. She was so... mesmerising when she was angry. It was like she and he were the only ones on Earth. He knew it was wrong to feel this, but he did. He'd never seen her like this before.

Her face was hot and flushed with a shade of red that almost matched her hair, her eyes now watering and bloodshot from her pure anger. She was breathing in and out in a rapid pattern, soft frown grinding further and further down into her own skull.

Suddenly she let out a heavier breath, uncurling her fingers from her palms. Her eyes didn't change but her brows lifted, her cheeks were a light pink now.

"Ya know why I do all this?! Ya know why I'm livin' with your... _unreasonable behaviour_?" she asked, demanding at first, but then it mellowed into a softer, more sorrowful tone. "It's 'cos I love ya to the point where... just standin' at the side lines ain't enough. I _have_ to be 'round ya all the time, and whether you shout at me or smack me, your voice and your touch is enough. It's 'cos in a way, I'm still close to ya, without ya knowin'... and I know that I'm the only one you 'ave to dep..."

Eleanor didn't finish, she just sighed and lowered her tired, defeated gaze to the floorboards, not noticing that he'd shifted an inch closer, leaving one last final inch between them.

He sighed, internally shouting because he found it really hard to know what to say to the woman. Or maybe he was just cursing himself for what he was about to admit.

"You're right," Sweeney started hoarsely, the sound of his softer tone of voice making her face him again. "My whole being is literal _shit._ And I was born out of it. Now I've pulled you into this corrupt void too... I shouldn't have, I should have never come back here. I should leave, I should find place for vengeance elsewhere."

 _"No!"_ she exclaimed, suddenly flinging herself at him, squeezing him into a hug between her arms. He frowned at her and didn't respond. She gasped and immediately left his body, blushing at her actions.

" 'M sorry Mr T... I just..."

"I know. If you feel that you're fine with me being here, I shall stay. And now I know how you feel then I s'pose I'll _have to_ treat you better."

She smiled warmly.

_"But ..."_

Her smile fell.

"... You'll have to stop pesterin' me when I'm working. If you stop that, then I assure you that I'll treat you properly."

She thought about it. It wasn't that bad for an offer was it? After all, she could always do something else instead of 'bothering' him... like... reading, or napping... _daydreaming._

"What 'appen's if I break the promise of leavin' you in peace?"

"We go back to how we are at present."

She stayed quiet, not moving a muscle.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked, keeping the serious emotion on his face when she beamed him a gleeful grin.

Eleanor nodded quickly, "Yes, we do."

She held out a hand for him to shake, a gesture all good business deals ended with.

And that was the moment when Sweeney dipped his head and left a small chaste kiss upon her lips, lightly patting her shoulder as he turned away and casually walked off to his bedroom.

Eleanor was left there, blinking in bliss and awe as a furious magenta blush painted her face and a daze came over her. The scene played out again and again and again before her.

Is this what he thought about how she 'should' be treated? Or was this another game to manipulate her?

She didn't know and frankly didn't care.

She touched her lips, which were now bearing the warmth that his had left.

For once, anger had led to something good.


	2. Toast

Believe it or not, the baker had actually managed to last _a week_ without bothering her beloved brooding barber. She'd taken extra care each day to make sure she arrived with his breakfast, lunch and dinner on time, on the _dot,_ to be more precise. Not that he'd be remotely aware of the time when he was in a world of his own, usually staring ahead with his dark barren eyes, or pacing about his blood-stained floorboards with restlessness.

Surprisingly, the barber had also managed to last the week, however, he hadn't really done anything forward (like their small kiss) since the day their truce was formed. Or really even said, or done _anything_ different at all. In fact, Mr Todd _'treating Mrs Lovett right'_ seemed to have morphed into him _ignoring_ her. He barely noticed her now. He hadn't given any attention whatsoever to the woman before their agreement, but now he was worse than ever. It seemed he'd used the truce to silence her, much to his manipulative delight.

Instead, Mrs Lovett had been loyally honouring their agreement every time she clambered those frightful stairs of his, not even earning the slightest twitch of movement from him when she crept in through his door, alerting the shop's tingling bell. She didn't even let out the faintest peep as she'd set his tray down silently, a brief scuffle of her boots would be the only sound in his demented workplace. Her eyes were always full of desperation as she'd steal a glance at him, yearning for him to look back at her, just as he had done that day he'd been mesmerised by her anger. Even if the infernal man had thought it meaningless, or was just messing with her, Eleanor Lovett now knew that such an action as Mr Todd listening to her, _kissing_ her... was actually possible. So therefore, in her eyes, there was an enormous chance that such a happening could repeat again. She'd look so expectantly, with beads of patience in her glossy brown eyes just before she'd turn around on her heels, to quietly leave him to his grief. He wouldn't even know she'd been there. But whenever she would come up to retrieve the tray she'd left, the tea in the cup (or shot of gin if it happened to be later on in the day) and food on the plate would have gone. Did he think that food just _appeared_ out of thin air? Clearly he did because he would never thank her, or utter a word, when she'd take it all the way out of his shop and back down the stairs.

It was clear, that the barber was certainly not keeping his end of the bargain.

It was the early hours of a Thursday morning when Mrs Lovett's bad luck seemed to return - something that had laid dormant ever since the barber's advance. Her usual routine was to wake up at a respectable time in order to prepare fresh pastry for the day ahead, she always needed a lot of it due to the greedy demand for her _fine_ pies... If only the public knew that they were gorging themselves on their fellow man, maybe then they wouldn't be so quick to scoff the pastries down with such desperation...

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Mrs Lovett had overslept on this bitter, frosty Thursday morning. As soon as she lazily stretched her bare arms up, chestnut hair like tangled twigs in bird's nest, she gasped at the light poking through the gap in her bedroom curtains. Usually in the early hours of a November morning it would be pitch black outside, she didn't even need a clock to tell her that she was late.

 _"Silly nit!"_ she whispered to herself firmly as she flung the greying bed sheets off her, scrambling to her feet. _"S-So bleedin' c-cold!"_ Her arms hugged around her for warmth as she rushed around her room in an attempt to make herself presentable in the fastest time she could. She forcefully jerked open her ancient wardrobe, picking out any old dress that happened to be hung up in front of her at the time. It was still dark in her room despite the rays of light from the curtains, and her dresses were all dark colours anyway, there had been no point fussing over what she looked like. She threw on her undergarments in a clumsy manner, slinging on the dress that would "do" for the day over the top. She pulled on her boots at last, trotting out of her room. Any person would be able tell that she'd not even bothered brushing her hair, she'd merely pinned the train wreck up and swept it over to the side slightly in a pursuit to make it neat (there were still hairs that escaped and draped down to touch the top of her collarbone), strangely she suited a hurried look.

Her heart sped up once she passed through the parlour, worried when there was no sign of Toby (who was usually in there asleep with his arms hugging an empty bottle of gin). She couldn't even remember if the boy had slept at her premises the night before. _'Think we 'as more pressin' matters Nell!'_ she scolded herself as she walked through to her shop, bloodshot eyes widening at the loitering customers already outside dying for a hot pie. There was no way she would be ready for the morning rush, let alone the _noon_ one. She stood behind her counter, eyeing the growing number of people as she took out all of her baking tools and ingredients out from beneath the worktop. After sorting out things in some kind of order on the counter, she let out a huff, leaving her usual place for the time being to reluctantly see to the eager crowd outside. The blush was already reaching her cheeks before she'd got to her door - she was the so-called best pie maker in London, and she wasn't even open for the morning rush, already Eleanor felt like a complete failure. She'd felt she had such a respectable business now, only to feel like her reputation was swirling to a never-ending drain.

Mrs Lovett opened her door a fraction, poking her head around it shyly. She was rarely ever shy, the majority of the time she was cheery and outgoing - even when she was chopping bodies, she'd be singing away or daydreaming to distract herself. Yet speaking to lots of people in order to admit her own blunder was not something she could ever be bubbly about.

 _"_ Finally!", "Bloomin' daffy is this!", "So she _is_ alive!" were just a handful of the muddled responses Mrs Lovett received from the mixed crowd of hungry customers.

The heat from her blush finally had turned her red, it was too much for her to handle, the couple of dozens of eyes were studying her in such vulgar ways - some gazes were disappointed or angered, other eyes were calculating her every move as if they knew the blatant sinner she was.

 _"We'reclosed,"_ she blurted out, wanting to get the speech over and done with, even if it caused her customers to think she was utterly barmy, or to lose trust in her business completely. "Openfortheevenin'."

"Not even openin' for breakfast then?!" one man wearing a dusty flat cap yelled from the back of the crowd, extending his arm up in a point so he could be seen.

His response was her slamming the door shut, the glass windows shaking from such a forceful action. She ran back to her counter, gasping out desperately once she realised what the man outside had said, _breakfast!_ She had totally forgot about Mr T's breakfast! And she'd wanted to make her actions _perfect_ ever since their truce had come into motion - how could she forgive herself now, when he was clearly up there turning into _a skeleton!_ He'd be positively _starving_ when she'd get up there. She muttered curses under her breath, abandoning the baking equipment for the time being - she'd have plenty of time to prepare pastry for the evening, Mr T being hungry was a more pressing matter.

She fumbled around her work-space and gathered a half bottle of gin, a tumbler and the cleanest plate she had, still feeling the crowd outside staring at her with rage. She decided on giving Mr T gin that morning, seeing as she'd be turning up tremendously late, she thought he'd be needing something a bit stronger than tea. She was surprised he hadn't come down and yelled at her for not finding his usual breakfast in its usual place, at its usual time. _'Per'aps 'e's stickin' to the truce,'_ she thought, preparing him some toast over the stove - it was taking longer because she had only just lit it. _'Either that or 'e's in one of his god awful trances. Oh come on Nell, when_ isn't _'e in one of those trances?'_

Staring into space, she almost burned the last sides of the bread, it was only once she smelled the frazzled breadcrumbs that she snapped out of her dream. She cursed herself when she picked up the two slices with bare hands. She walked back to the counter, where the plate, glass and bottle were. She threw the steaming slices onto the plate, blowing on her hands. She rolled her eyes, "This really ain't my day, is it?"

It wasn't long before she'd assembled the tray, and made her way to the door. She trailed her eyes from left to right, ensuring the rowdy crowd had dispersed. Luckily, no one was there now, only the usual passers by trailed past her shop. Hastily, she pushed open the door with one hand, biting her lip when cold air rushed into her face. Shivering, she rushed outside, gripping onto the tray for dear life as she headed towards the stairs as quick as she could. There was something colder about this day, though Eleanor should have been expecting it for late November.

Each stair seemed as if it were layered with ice, and she took care since she had both claw-like hands on the tray. She immediately regretted blindly choosing her dress that morning, her exposed neck, shoulders and chest were absolutely freezing as she traipsed up the rest of the staircase. She let out of breath of relief once she'd reached the top, heading the rest of the way to Mr Todd's door. Again that blush painted her cheeks even before she'd stepped foot in the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the cold was too much to stand any longer and barged into his territory.

The bell announced her arrival, not to mention her breaths of air she'd not noticed she'd been holding in. His room was usually just as cold as the outside world, but strangely on this particular day she felt a hell of a lot warmer in there. She allowed herself a few seconds to compose herself, and of course, to let her embarrassment die down. Her eyes drifted to Mr Todd for those few seconds, who was sitting in his barber chair, head fully back against the back of it, his milky white neck on show. His eyes were closed, but from the way his right hand clasped around one of his razors, it was obvious he was not sleeping. Mrs Lovett only just managed to hold onto her body weight, she felt like she was going faint at the alluring scene. It wasn't often he let his guard down, and it was even rarer for her to see him in such a way right in front of her - whether he knew she was present or not, clearly didn't matter to him at this particular time.

Her quivering stopped once she reminded herself that the man was probably remembering (or least _trying to_ ) his dear wife Lucy, in all her yellow haired glory. His face looked neutral, that's how she knew this. Unfortunately, due to Mrs Lovett being utterly obsessed with the man, she'd analysed him so much that she could read him like a favourite book most of the time, whether he uttered a sound or stayed in silence was meaningless. She stood watching him for a few more seconds, her eyebrows furrowing - what she would give to have him thinking of her with that look on his face...

Feeling a warm smile grace her lips at that thought, she tiptoed over the floorboards in her usual way, not wanting to disturb the _(for the time being)_ calm barber. She set down his tray on the vanity, studying the broken mirror like she tended to do. When she heard the rustle of movement behind her, she immediately turned. Surely he hadn't _moved?_

To Eleanor's surprise, Mr Todd had indeed moved. He'd shifted in his chair slightly, so that his back was straight and his head lolled down. That gleaming razor of his was still snugly tucked in his fist, much to her dismay.

She swallowed, now feeling her throat had gone dry and slowly made her way back to the door. As she glided past the barber chair, Mr Todd's left arm shot out and grabbed her forearm, yanking her towards him. She let out a yelp of dread, knowing his trusty friend was still firmly in his other hand's grip. He pulled her down so she stared him squarely in his scolding black eyes. He was frowning, that last almost peaceful expression he'd held had been scraped clean off.

"M-Mr T - ! "

She struggled against him, even though he made her heart beat ten-to-the-dozen with such excitement and delight. His fingers didn't let off any pressure, they only seemed to dig into her arm further. He didn't say a word, she barely heard him breathe, but he must have been since his chest was rising and falling. She drunk his being in, her peripheral vision picking up the tiniest details about him - she didn't know when she'd get another chance at such close proximity again.

"Mrs Lovett." he addressed in monotone, his voice and face not giving her a clue how he was feeling or... what he was doing. It was the first words he'd said to her for a week, and something about it being her name made her shiver. He hadn't let go of her, she was still bent over and trapped under his haunting gaze - she hoped no customer came in then, mainly because of how her heart was having to do welcomed overtime, but also because of her being in a seductive looking position. Though she laughed at anyone thinking that. No way would Mr T wish to put her in such a position on purpose - the idea of it was utterly ludicrous.

"I-I'm sorry I was so late love," Eleanor answered quietly, finding that Mr Todd being so near to her was causing her to act ridiculous, and ... _shy._

He blinked his eyes once, like that was his response. His eyes still bored into hers, wearing down her will to stop 'bothering' him. It's like his eyes were ordering her to say something, or perhaps _daring_ her. Feeling like she was indeed going to spoil the moment with her big mouth, she bit her lip, making sure nothing was about to spill out of her. His eyes flicked to her bottom lip, causing her to swallow. Nothing about his gaze was caring, it still looked like he despised her existence but... at least he was noticing.

 _"Mrs Lovett."_ he repeated in a tone of voice she'd not heard from him before, it was something in between soft and gruff - if that was even possible. He was leaning closer, and she drew her neck away, exposing her throat to him. Her eyes closed as she bit her lip again, head tilting back so he could no longer study her so intensely. She didn't want him to look her with that maddening hate, especially when she would have to tell him that she hadn't even started to do preparations downstairs yet...

Once again, Mr Todd's actions interrupted her worry. His death-grip on her faded, but still he caught her off-guard, sweeping his hand down her sleeves to clutch her bare wrist. His frown deepened as he brought her bare hands to his eyes. "No gloves, Mrs Lovett?" he mocked, making her heart sink like a ton of bricks. At first, she thought it was rather observant of him for noticing she usually wore gloves... but then she realised he would eventually put two-and-two together.

In a flash, she opened her eyes, snatching her wrist from him, secretly screaming out in elation that she'd felt his fingers against her own skin. She straightened up and scowled back at him now that he glared back at her, both of them equally hostile. "It ain't wot you think Mr T." she said firmly, putting her hands on her hips. She didn't really know what he was thinking, who knew what the murderous man dreamt up? His eyes narrowed at her, he almost seemed even more irritated now that she'd backed away from him. "I - " She cut off, frown raising into an expression reminiscent of despair, her gaze lowering down to the stained floorboards where she could still see flecks of blood from the horrific events of the night prior. She swallowed again, feeling honesty boiling up inside her.

"I overslept."

Mr Todd's scowl disappeared, a brow raising in genuine surprise. If Mrs Lovett had looked up to face him, she'd have probably seen amusement in his eyes. Her feet shifted and her cheeks burned, yet still she bravely lifted her head to face him.

"Mrs Lovett? _You_... overslept?" He said it like he was surprised that those two words were in the same sentence together. Not wanting to discuss anything further, Mrs Lovett let out a huff and tore away from him, heading for the door. It didn't help that he'd gotten so close to her before, to do nothing but scrutinize her, she was done with him playing with her emotions like that.

"I'm botherin' ya." she replied quickly, in her practical manner she'd use with her customers - she hated having to use it to talk to the man she was in love with. "I'd better run along..."

She paused, waiting for a response. She never got one. Her hand wrapped around the cold doorhandle, her head facing the floor below her and tears formed in her tearducts. She was so disappointed in herself, and him.

"Eat ya toast soon, won't ya love?" she choked out, only just managing to keep control over her voice. " 'S awful cold in 'ere."

With that, an ashamed and mortified Eleanor Lovett left a stoic Sweeney Todd to his own devices.


	3. A Burden

The entire day Mrs Lovett had purposely avoided going anywhere near the barbershop upstairs. Ever since she'd had her emotions toyed with again by the barber (not to mention since she'd _violated_ the truce between them both), she'd been too mortified with herself for getting in such a shy state. So she hadn't visited him since.

 _'You were not t'pester 'im!'_ she scolded herself, flipping her sign to _'Open'_ in time for the evening rush. There was already a gathering of customers outside which surprised her seeing as she thought she'd probably steered most trade away due to her weary episode that morning. _'Look at ya! Still shakin'! Get y'self together, 'ow can you serve people like 'is?!'_

Into the first hour of the rush she managed to compose herself, even clear her mind for a while when she found herself focusing on the customers and their problems. Usually the customers had every day problems that Eleanor found trivial and dull, but their nattering would distract her from her own barber-filled, blood-fuelled burdens. She'd managed to keep her cool, relaxing into the rush. That was... until her memories of the morning returned.

 _" 'Nother ale 'ere dearie!"_ a scarcely dressed blonde woman yelled from one of the crowded tables on the patio outside. Mrs Lovett rolled her eyes at the way the woman held herself so suggestively, clearly her shout had attracted the stare of the majority of male customers. _'Bloody attention seeker,'_ the baker thought, smearing a welcoming smile on her mouth as she brought the pitcher of ale towards the woman's table. _'Look at 'em all lookin' at 'er... What I'd give fer Mr T t'look at me like 'at...'_ She couldn't deny she was exceptionally jealous of this woman, even if said woman was caked in pink rouge and smudged kohl, and looked like what Mrs Lovett would call a complete _"tart"._

" 'ere y'are loves!" Mrs Lovett exclaimed, dumping the canteen of alcohol down onto the table, she couldn't put up being around such a raucous table much longer - especially with all the sickening flirtation going on. It usually didn't bother her, in fact it would amuse her to see some of the ugliest customers trying to gain the attention of those who just weren't interested, all thanks to them being intoxicated of course. But that night, she couldn't stand it. She weaved through tables without bumping into anyone - which was impressive seeing as she was gazing at the floor below her feet at the time. She headed back into her shop, wheezing out in relief that at least in there it was quiet. "Do 'ope I'm not turnin' into Mr T..." she muttered to herself, wondering why she preferred the silence instead of the joyful chatter outside.

Eleanor let out another deep breath, lock of auburn hair being blown up into the air as she did so. Her hair was still in its messy fashion, although more strands had become disentangled as the day had gone on. She placed a now gloved hand flat over her forehead, eyes closing. It was another spell of embarrassment coming over her, she'd held it back for the rush so far, but she wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to keep up the happy act. Mr T would be clearly already _bothered_ by her from the disturbance earlier, and her not doing her job properly was certainly not going to _aid_ his mood. She felt like she was missing something too - had she forgotten something? She straightened herself up, opening her eyes as she dusted down imaginary creases on the front of her skirts with her hands. Her gaze landed on the tray of fresh pies left on the counter, and she headed towards it, realising that she'd only got half a tray left. By now, she'd normally have gone through two or three trays, but she'd managed to cope with the one. Maybe there was less people than she'd thought, and her previous episode _had_ indeed affected business.

Again, blush painted her cheeks, her elbows perched on the side of the counter as she cupped her chin in her hands. She looked to the outside world through the shop windows - it was pitch black outside, it must have been going on for eight or nine, she wasn't going to check a clock any time soon. She wanted the night to be over as soon as possible without glaring at any cursed clock-hands to give herself the illusion that she was able to make time go faster.

Her eyes flickered to the patio outside, which was lit up with the crimson lanterns she'd recently bought. Now she'd got more money the place was shaping up to be more pleasant - not that the customers seemed bothered about their surroundings, they clearly weren't taking anything in as they failed to notice there was a mass murdering barber killing away upstairs. As her thoughts cast to that very man, she seemed to fixate on the lanterns, as if they were the most interesting things on Earth.

Eleanor was worrying again, hoping that the partnership (or whatever it was they had) between her and Mr Todd wasn't suffering too much. She'd been the first to break the truce after all - he could act worse than he had been before because of it, she wouldn't blame him for doing so either. _'Not that 'e seemed too bothered by me bein' there...'_ she thought back, eyes gazing dazedly out of the windows.

She could recall the determined hate in his eyes, the strange tone of his voice... his clutch on her wrist as he'd mocked her. She saw a silhouette of someone entering the main door in her peripheral vision, and she heard them drone something to her, and she silently obliged to serve them, her eyes still focused on the windows. She looked like a hypnotised ghost as she grabbed a few plates and placed a pie on each one, her movements like a programmed machine. She heard a muttered "Thank you" but did not acknowledge the customer(s?), too lost in her own world. She was remembering the way the man upstairs looked at her, doubting her own memory. He'd looked hateful, but then again when _didn't_ he look at her like that? She swallowed, closing her eyes as she laid her palms out flat on the counter like she was trying steady herself. He'd looked annoyed, like he'd been disgusted by her... _hadn't he?_ The more she thought back, the more she changed her mind. He'd looked... _intense_ , of course, but she didn't just see that malice he'd always wear, she saw something else... _what the hell was it?!_ Her back shivered and she bit her lip, hair falling in front of her eyes as she looked down to the worktop suddenly feeling extremely warm.

It wasn't long before she was broken out of her thoughts - loud bangs from the ceiling and muffled expletives made her shiver again, although it wasn't a pleasant one this time. She shook her head, like that finally had gotten rid of her thoughts and she picked up the tray of pies she'd been standing in front of, heading outside. No way was she staying in there and listening to him having a tantrum upstairs, she'd know what would be the cause of it and did not want to be reminded of her mistake any longer.

Mrs Lovett wore a pleasant smile before pushing open her door to head towards the bustling tables outside. _"Ey! She's back fellas! Wi' more pies!"_ a man wearing a flat cap yelled, pointing up his hand in drunken victory. Eleanor was fairly surprised that the man could speak without slurring given he'd had a few too many beakers of ale. Cheers greeted her as she set down the tray of pies on an empty table in the centre of the patio, and she rolled her eyes like she didn't think she deserved such attention - but internally she was jumping for joy, at last - she didn't feel like an utter failure anymore. Gluttonous hands snatched and fought over the remaining human-filled pastries and she had to take a few steps back just for her own space. None of them thanked her, instead, they just necked down whatever they'd managed to scrounge from the tray. And there was innocent Mrs Lovett, watching in amusement as the hungry public were slowly, unknowingly turning into greedy cannibals. Her eyes didn't match her nice smile, in fact her gaze was anything but _nice._ The noise of her customers suddenly seemed bearable for her, even though it had grown in volume now that the ale had reached most people's cheeks. She preferred it when her customers were incoherent -

 _'_ _Then 'gain so does Mr T...'_ she thought, biting into the smirk that evolved on her lips to stop her from laughing out loud.

Deciding that she looked slightly suspicious just staring at her customers with such amusement, she perched herself on an empty table just a couple of feet away from the squabbling crowd, she appeared to look like she was taking a breather to most people - when really she was eavesdropping. It was something she'd always do now and again, mainly in case anyone noticed it was in fact _human_ meat she was serving to them (just so she'd know who Mr T would need to bump off as a precaution), but also because she was just down-right nosy. She held out her arms on the table, gazing at them all covered up to the knuckles of her fingers. None of the conversations at that moment were particularly interesting, so she began to study the frayed finger-less gloves she wore, picking off any loose threads as if it was the most distracting thing in the world.

The sound of hurried footsteps from the staircase behind her caused her to freeze her actions. _'It could be a customer,'_ she told herself, trying to stop herself from widening her eyes in fright and apprehension. _'No need t'be thinkin' it's_ 'im _all the bleedin' time...'_ Her neck hairs stood on end when she heard the same heavy, tenacious steps approaching her from behind. Whoever it was moved fast. Eleanor continued to stare down at her thin fingers in interest, trying to ignore the fact the man was probably stood right behind her. She could sense his proximity, and it made her wriggle on the bench she was sat on, legs crossing over as much as they could seeing as her skirts made it difficult to move freely.

 _"Mrs Lovett."_ Mr Todd spat out, he sounded truly disgusted by her, but she didn't want to turn to look at him. She knew he'd be boring his eyes into her, attempting to wear her down with his sandpaper stare.

"Mr Todd." Mrs Lovett replied in a small voice, trying to steady her heart rate, but it was in vain. He stayed silent and briskly slipped himself onto the empty part of bench next to her, yet she still didn't turn to look at him due to her embarrassment. She was curious to the reason in which Sweeney Todd had been brought down the stairs, it had to be something _drastic_ seeing as this was always his hour of prime-time killing. But she didn't ask. She wanted him to talk, it was _he_ who had come to _her_ after all...

"We appear to be having some _issues_ with the chute _pet,"_ he whispered dangerously, so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. Why did the man have to both frighten and excite her at the same time? She presumed he hadn't the faintest clue about the effect he was having on her, for he carried on whether she answered him or not.

"Seems a large number of _vermin_ have accumulated in the bake'ouse, care to tell me why?!" he breathed firmly, hand clenching around her waist to pull her closer so that she faced him. She knew he was whispering because they were in the public eye, but she still felt her heart quicken as he did could see the fear in her eyes (or was it that same mortification he'd seen earlier?) once she realised what it was she had been forgetting - she'd not been down to clear up the bodies that had been sent down the double-dead chute.

 _"Oh Mr T!"_ she whispered back suddenly, hand flying to cover her cleavage where her heart was . "Wot am I like! 'Knew I was forgettin' somethin'! I'll get to it right away - "

She jolted upwards and his hand on her waist tightened, yanking her firmly back down to sit next to him. She blinked, eyes comically wide as she realised he was clad in his usual outfit, only he'd taken off his waistcoat and neck fastenings, something he often did during his busy night shifts. But she'd never gotten been able to get so close to him during times such as this, and she felt herself growing hot at the thought of him only having that thin layer of shirt over him.

"No." he whispered in a domineering tone, scavenging eyes staring into her fear-filled ones, ensuring she was obeying him. She wasn't sure what she was scared of more - him being there, or the fact he'd wanted her to stay. "You rushin' off just as I get 'ere would look rather suspicious, wouldn't you say Mrs Lovett? 'S not like any more of the filth will tumble down all by themselves while I'm gone, will they?" he added patronisingly, words laced with spite. He'd said more words than she'd recalled him saying to her ever, which made her swallow in pleasant apprehension.

"O-Oh..." she answered, her eyes faltering under his scrutinising stare. "Yes 'o course, Mr T. Me stayin' 'ere _would_ be the practical thing to do."

"Eminently practical, as always." he breathed, his tone almost amused. He took her from out of his grasp, placing both of his hands onto his lap beneath the table's surface as he shuffled away from her. Eleanor suddenly felt lonely, even though he was sat right beside her - she'd warmed to his grip on her, no matter if it had been a harsh action.

Soon that feeling of solitude disappeared when he spoke once more, but she supposed it was merely for appearance seeing as they were mingling with the public.

"You left your tray from earlier." he stated in monotone, eyes now focusing on the people sat on the busy tables opposite, who were gorging on the evidence left from his previous murders. Mrs Lovett's heart suddenly sped up at an incredible pace - he was making conversation, something she relished in being part of.

"Didn't wanna disturb ya 'gain," she replied, in a slightly louder voice now that she had gained more confidence for she was actually conversing with the socially awkward man. "I know I've already ruined most of t'day fer everyone. Missed out on the day's trade an' all, but never mind, s'pose all good things come to those who wait, an' then to an 'alt at some point, ey Mr T?" He grunted in reply, to which she closed the few inches he'd shuffled in order to gain moments before. When he felt her arm brush next to his he shot a venomous glare her way, followed by him then turning to immediately face her.

_"What are you - "_

"Sh, love," she whispered, seizing her chance now that she was in public to make a move on Mr Todd - it would stir up a fuss if he threw a tantrum or tried to kill her in public, and that's how she knew the man was powerless to do anything to stop her. He wouldn't _dare_ give anyone any idea that he was really a deeply troubled man. "You must be starvin', you only 'ad that bit 'o toast I gave ya."Mr Todd's frown only became more prominent, and he shifted slightly when she reached up a hand to stroke the side of his cheek. He wanted to snatch hold of her wrist like he'd done that morning, and squeeze her until she let out a yelp - but he didn't, he couldn't. Not there. He clenched his teeth as her fingers caressed his face, hands by his sides tightening into fists.

He closed his eyes, trying to push the sensation of her touch out of his mind - because he was slowly finding that her doing such a thing wasn't as unpleasant as he'd imagined. He rather liked it, much to his dismay. And he didn't want to, he was only supposed to enjoy the memories of those warm feelings, those _treasured_ feelings Lucy had made him feel.

Mr Todd made a disgruntled noise and took his face from her like she'd burnt him. Without another word he stood, shaking his head to himself, probably wondering why he'd let such a foolish charade go on for too long. She followed him, a look of rejection on her features as she watched him make his way through the packed tables to the stairs. She carried on too, only in the opposite direction, deciding that solving the body blockage would probably at least keep him half happy.

As each of them, quite literally parted ways, their ears pricked up at the sound of a man loudly chattering away from a table behind them.

 _"Oh yes! I shall have to hand in the inspection form tomorrow now, or else the council shall not be happy, seeing as they have had so many complaints about this place. I would hand in the report this evening, however I would not wish to return to the house in such disarray!"_ the rather plump, red cheeked man boomed out, chuckling loudly as people apparently answered him.

Neither Mrs Lovett or Mr Todd turned, they merely shortened and slowed down their steps, wearing looks of hidden shock and intrigue.

 _"It is indeed official, in fact, once the council sees the report, it will almost certainly have immediate affect,"_ the man added, causing the partners-in-crime to visibly freeze, eyes wide. Luckily as their backs were to the customers, no one noticed the looks of their faces.

The two of them paused, waiting for more from the man. But they no longer could hear his voice, left wondering what the man was on about. Although it was fairly clear to the two of them that the man needed to be _rid of_ immediately, or... perhaps the report he had needed to be altered at least, Mrs Lovett hadn't been so rash to think about being razor-ready (unlike Mr Todd). As long as they disposed of the report, or _adapted_ it to meet acceptable conditions for whatever or _whoever_ this council was, the two of them had nothing to worry about. Both the barber and the baker came to the same conclusion, dropping the worry from their faces instantly. They knew what needed to be done, and it would be done tomorrow. Even though the two of them had no idea the other one of them had heard the same worrying thing, they set on their ways in unison, going about their business like nothing had happened.

If only they had communicated.

Then they wouldn't have felt like they had to fix their problem on their own.


	4. The Quick-Fix Strategy

 The next day a battalion of clouds rumbled over London, firing down their droplets of rain with no mercy. As a consequence of such heinous weather, the city was fairly deserted compared to its usual bustling, shoulder-to-shoulder cramped streets and smog filled skies. The obsidian clouds weren't going to disappear anytime soon, they made that perfectly clear with their restless rain. Business everywhere was certainly going to be slow today, especially for Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett - no one was going to venture out for a shave or a hot pie in such dreadful weather.

Due to the murder-couple's odd 'usual' customers that returned to their establishments almost religiously (they had to have their regulars, otherwise people would start to notice that no one came back out of the barber shop - _living,_ at least), they had both kept their shops open even though they'd had next to no business. Having so much time now that their all habitual clients had been, the partners in crime had both intricately devised individual plans on how they were to tackle their mysterious council problem - and both of them had a feeling Beadle Bamford would have something to do with it, seeing as he was the so-called _authority_ in their parts.

Mr Todd stood by his skylight, gaze empty as he looked down over Fleet Street. Wide puddles had cultivated over the cobbles, he could tell where the inconsistent road was when he spied the deeper looking ones. The rain had no empathy, beating down over the floor, and of course, onto any soul that happened to be travelling out in it. He held up an arm to the peeling wall for support, just so he could stand there scowling out of his window for a moment longer. The barber should have been shitting a brick by now - like Mrs Lovett was downstairs - but he didn't show any sort of bother, even if he _was_ internally, unmistakably irked by what he'd heard from the apparent counsellor the night prior. His thoughts had tossed aside his revenge, and all he'd been focusing on that day was some sort of plan - he couldn't have his little slaughterhouse operation being compromised. He'd surely have to burn such a report, there was no way the review would be _positive_ in any way - a man of council surely wouldn't _approve_ of pies filled with the ex-customers of the barber upstairs. Mr Todd's eyebrows furrowed into a more concerned frown - he didn't recall the man mentioning Mrs Lovett's bake-house when he'd spoken, which must have been seen for a fully fledged inspection. At least, that's what he presumed.

_'What if 'e'd snuck in there? Mrs Lovett wouldn't 'ave even noticed 'im skulkin' in - hell_ I _wouldn't 'ave. 'E could be talkin to the law_ now _for all I know... or just bidin' 'is unfortunate time... waitin' to tell all of 'is corrupt council pals as soon as 'e handed in 'is_ stinking _account ...'_ he told himself, his eyes narrowing in distraction as they latched onto two twirling figures through the window - a man in a suit and top-hat, a woman in a rather expensive frilly dress - on the other side of the street, who were seemingly _celebrating_ the fact it was raining. The two of them were absolutely soaked, yet almost looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Their silhouettes danced around, and Mr Todd could just imagine the sickening sounds of the two of them laughing or even singing as more bucket-loads of water poured onto them, their bodies drenched to their bones. They seemed happy. And suddenly, Sweeney Todd realised that he no longer missed how care-free he had been when he was Benjamin. He now found it truly _disgusting_ , and indeed _foolish._

He tore away from the sight in disgust and began to pace (more like _stomp)_ over his floorboards, gaze ablaze like the couple's happiness had made his thirst for vengeance - sorry, _murder_ \- writhe under his skin. His thoughts were escalated, causing his blood to rush around him in a vicious rage.

_'What if the so-called report is not a written one at all?!'_ he continued to ask himself, hands flying up to his scalp to grab fistfuls of his charcoal hair. _'Then that'd make 'im a verbal_ witness. _Wouldn't it? And what do we have to_ do _with witnesses?'_ He stopped dead over the floor, hands still firmly clawed into his locks. _'But I can't possibly kill 'im here. Mrs Lovett is completely unaware of the situation and she'd only get in the way, as usual. And killin' 'im 'ere would only confirm any suspicions anybody already 'as...'_ His jaw set as his eyelids dropped down to close his eyes, his arms falling calmly down by his sides. Finally he'd managed to gain some control, he'd found a suffice solution to his problem. _'I shall have to find 'im and 'is_ ridiculous _council then, won't I? An' dispose of 'im then and there - but clearly it will not be in the conventional manner.'_

A wicked smirk smeared across his lips, his dark eyes completing the look of a deranged madman. Anticipation flowed through him, like the idea of killing someone in a new style had been a drug that finally made him feel alive somehow. He decided he would follow the man that evening, he supposed that a prestigious council would hold gatherings in the first dark hours of night - he wasn't sure why, but he trusted his instincts. What with the quiet streets it would be a lot easier to locate and track the man, he would certainly have no trouble at all getting rid of the _problem_ \- as long as he himself, was on his toes.

_'What about Mrs Lovett? She needs her meat supply this evening, doesn't she?'_ The smirk fell from his face at the thought of her, he hadn't forgotten her attempt at showing him her affection under the public's watch - naturally, he wasn't on good terms with her (he never was anyway). _'She won't even notice I'm gone. She'll 'ave enough bodies to last 'er the night, seein' as she let 'em bloody build up last night...'_

The barber under-estimated the baker.

And it was going to be his downfall.

* * *

Mrs Lovett huffed and stared out at the torrential downpour occurring on the other side of her windows, her eyebrows furrowed up into a grimace as her teeth tugged her bottom lip. From her body language it would be obvious to anyone that she was deeply troubled - she would shift her boots over the floor every now and then to get in a more comfortable leaning position over the counter. One elbow rested on the worktop, her palm cupping her chin. Her other arm was reaching up to her neck, her fingers were furiously curling a lock of her hair - so much so that she was going to end up knotting it soon.

She wanted to run up to Mr Todd that instant, she had felt like that all night in fact. She hadn't slept. How could she have slept well? She couldn't knowing that their little scheme could be discovered at any time, or even worse, if the council had found a single thing wrong with her establishment (if they didn't realise the meat was human, of course) she could end up penniless, or worse still - _barber-less._

Her heart sunk at the thought of the latter, eyes squeezing shut to stop any tears flowing out. She hadn't wanted to bother Mr Todd, that's why she hadn't ran up to him all in a blunder. She knew he was already annoyed with her for her mistakes the day prior, not to mention her breaking their agreement. The best thing - she'd decided - was to make it up to him by solving the council problem herself. Although she was letting the worry consume her, she was rather thankful for such an enormous burden to come along - perhaps her solving it would attract Mr Todd's attention for once.

Tonight she would shut up shop (even if it was Friday, one of her busiest nights), without a word to Mr Todd. He never came down to see her anyway, so there was no worries there. Luckily, she'd already cut up (or burnt) the bodies that had been left the night before, meaning Mr Todd wouldn't have the slightest notion she wasn't there once he'd send the carcasses down the chute. She'd planned everything so perfectly in her head. Unlike the barber, she hadn't been so rash to jump to the macabre solution (murder) and instead, rationally considered her options. The most practical thing to do was to sneak into the place where the reports were shelved - Nellie had already been there countless times, seeing as she'd accumulated rather a lot of complaints over the years (though she'd got next to none since she'd started using human meat). Less people would be there at night, and especially with the weather being so miserable she had a feeling no one would want to hang around for too long.

Even though she was stood in her shop, she swore she could hear a clock ticking loudly, all around her. The nearest clock was stood in the parlour so there was no way she could have heard that one from where she was. "Goin' bleedin' barmy I am," she whispered to herself, eyebrows raising up a little. "Either that, or I'm not used t'this place bein' so quiet."

She would wait until dusk.

Little did the two of them know that they would be getting themselves into a hell of a lot more than they had expected...


	5. Asymmetrical Timing

As soon as dusk approached, both Sweeney Todd and Mrs Lovett flipped their signs to closed, traipsed their workplaces to find their coats and as silently as they could, crept out of their abodes.

The rain was still streaming down, making the stairs up to the barber shop rather slippy. The barber trod down them with silent caution, holding in a curse as rain beat down onto his form, practically smacking him in the face - like the rain had known to do so, since he'd had the idea that his trench coat would actually keep him fully _dry._ He wanted to let out a grumble, or even an irritated yell, but he clenched his jaw instead, deciding it would only attract Mrs Lovett's attention (and everyone else's) and that's the last thing he wanted. He'd made it to the bottom of his staircase, and set off in the west direction, keeping his head down as a miffed scowl found its way onto his brow immediately.

The bell rang out as Mrs Lovett slammed her front door shut, locking it behind her. She sighed. "I knew I shoulda bought that bloody umbrella at the market the other day." she told herself, rolling her eyes as she turned around to gaze up into the falling droplets. She regretted even putting an ounce of work into how she'd looked now that she felt the water soaking into her. She huffed and looked at the shimmering cobbles below her feet, "Well, no time like the present..."

With that, Eleanor set off to the east, looking rather glum now that she felt the rain reaching her scalp, entwining with her dark red hair. Her heart got that sinking feeling as she glanced back to her premises - back to the window of Mr Todd's tonsorial parlour. She breathed out a "Thank 'eavens" when she saw that there was no familiar silhouette of a certain homicidal barber. Yet still, she hoped the man hadn't seen her, the last thing she wanted to do was explain her actions to the man - especially after the day she'd had the day before.

Meanwhile, over to the west, Mr Todd found he was suffering more than he would have liked to admit. It had been around twenty minutes since he'd left his shop, and at that moment, he would have killed to go back there. His sodden black hair clung to his face, his hands clenched into fists as water had slowly begun to seep through his trench coat, to the waistcoat and shirt he wore beneath. It wasn't that he couldn't cope with the rain, he just found the rain to be a damn nuisance - a nuisance that he actually _couldn't kill_ for once. The streets were completely deserted around him, not that he had time to sense the eeriness of it all - he kept his head down, blind to where he was actually going.

Mrs Lovett was also having trouble, her skirts kept getting caught on things as she was walking now and again. There was no way she would be getting there quickly at that rate, especially if she kept being pulled back by random objects. She noticed the absence of people around her, and swallowed, suddenly wishing she had Mr Todd with her - she felt extremely lonely, and ... vulnerable, even though she was certain she could hold her own. She wasn't sure she was even going the correct way anymore. _'I should know where I'm bloody goin_ '!' she thought to herself, wincing as heavy splats of rain started to hit her more frequently. _'I've been there enough times! What's takin' me so long?!'_ She swallowed, finding her throat was extremely dry and lifted her skirts up slightly, a cold draft of air floating up to reach her stocking clad legs. It had been that or she'd be wasting time tripping over everything. She'd wasted enough already.

It wasn't long until Sweeney clicked that he was nearby to the place he'd intended to find (without him realising, he'd curved a path to the east) - he could tell from the amount of high class people around him, all of them carrying fashionable umbrellas. _"Lucky sods..."_ he breathed dangerously, one hand itching to reach underneath his trench coat to pull his razor from its holster. He could hear them gossiping, cackling to one another. He barely held back a stern glare - he wanted to stare them down, to shut them up, but he knew time was of the essence. He didn't have much of it, and he needed to find the man who'd been eating outside the night prior. He was in no mood for mistakes on his own part given that he was already completely soaked like a wet dishcloth - his coat had been as much use as a chocolate teapot. He risked a glance upwards when he noticed the volume of people had grown around him - mainly so he could steer clear of them all. As he did so, he laid his eyes upon one of the most extravagant buildings he'd ever seen. _'With extravagance comes lies, deceit... and of course, the vermin,'_ he thought to himself, suppressing a dark snort. The building was reminiscent of a Romanesque style (other than the relatively modern gas lamps), with chiselled columns and stone-cut stairways - although it was clear to any passer-by that the place was beginning to erode.

Eyeing the people around him to see if anyone was looking (of course, none of them were interested in a 'dull'-looking individual like Sweeney Todd), he took quick steps up the stone-cut staircase, head down again as wind blew more droplets of water into his face. He gritted his teeth, _'I better bloody find 'im after all of this. If I don't then I don't think burnin' a measly piece of paper is gonna be a_ suffice _solution...'_

Eleanor was still on her way, frowning as she realised more people had emerged into the street. She paused a moment, letting the public push their way past her shoulders. The torrent of rain had finally eased off, mere drizzle as she took a chance and looked up into the pitch-black clouds above. She glanced back down with a sour expression on her face. " 'Ad to stop _now_ didn't it?" she whispered to herself firmly, giving a venomous glare to all the smiling women who held umbrellas over their heads, even though there was barely any rain anymore. "Couldn't 'ave stopped as soon as I left 'ome could it?" She sighed, picking up her pace as much as she could with the heavy, sodden clothing stuck to her body, her locks of red hair were flat and drowned, stray curls clinging to her neck and shoulders. She bet she looked a fright.

Mr Todd held a harsh, empty emotion on his face as he looked to his feet, stepping into the lobby area. Even from the floor he could tell the place was spotless, the marble tiles were practically gleaming - but it wasn't quite as impressive as the shine that his razors gave off - they would _always_ be polished to absolute perfection. In the reflection of light on the floor he could just about make out a central staircase in front of him, which was nothing short of elegant. It branched out into two stairways, but they both met at the top. He felt his neck hairs prick up at the feeling of being stared at, a man such as him clearly wasn't normally seen in such a place, let alone at such a late time... He sensed the glares but carried on none-the-less, not exactly knowing what he was doing yet he knew full well that he did not like being under the watchful eyes of the rich. His fists clenched to his sides as he scurried up the steps as fast as he could, raising his gaze slightly to check if anyone he happened to pass was the large, raucous man from the night before.

The streets outside the council house were now teaming with all kinds of people - and to Eleanor's relief, it looked like plenty of others had seemingly been caught in the torturous rain and looked equally as depressingly dishevelled as her. Now gaining some confidence, she raised her head up, gazing about nosily. Even though it was probably going on for seven - even eight - at night, the place was thriving with happy-go-lucky beings going about their business. _'T'think they're just streets away from me an' Mr T...'_ she thought to herself, biting her lip as she smirked. _'Bloody oblivious they is!'_ Amusement soon washed away from her as she trundled up the stone stairs outside the building. She certainly did not have anything to smile about anymore - she was a woman on a mission, nothing (and no one) would stand in her way of her getting her solution... after all, if there was a chance Mr Todd was to thank her - god forbid - _praise_ her - she wanted to get it done and dusted to let Mr T know as soon as possible.

The barber trod wet footprints over the Persian-carpeted corridors, reading the plaques above each door he passed with sharp eyes. The counsellors or visitors he passed all gaped or gasped at his oblivious trail of water - he was unaware of their reactions, completely focused on his task. There had been no sign of his problematic counsellor so far, he was slowly feeling the impatience roil inside of him. He would be incredibly _infuriated_ if he only had to scrunch the report up - what a wasted opportunity! He'd force himself to hunt the man down - how he'd gotten his hopes up about _strangling_ the man, or _hanging_ the man, or b -

He paused, eyes lingering over golden letters that had been carefully painted on a glass-panelled door. It read _'Complaints and Declarations'_... he supposed that was near enough to what he'd been looking for. His anger and disappointment at the fact he wouldn't be killing anyone made his blood boil and fists tighten into claws. He sidled away from the main corridor to ensure no one saw him peeking through the frosted glass, he couldn't spy any humanoid shapes in there so twisted the knob, amazed when the door freely opened... _'Really, no_ locks _in a place like this? They truly are despicable.'_ he sneered to himself, quietly pushing the door shut with his back. The room looked more like somewhere the council held meetings - bookshelves and cabinets filled with _(apparently)_ significant artefacts were stood on the barber's side of the room. Chandeliers hung down from the ceiling, they looked like they were worth more money than Sweeney would normally earn in an entire year. In the centre, a finely polished table stretched out (with a generous looking decanter of brandy as its centrepiece), filling the majority of space along with the comfy looking leather chairs to match. On the opposite side to Sweeney, tattered filing cabinets overflowing with an array of files and papers caught his attention. That would be the perfect place to file a report on Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, he was sure of it.

The barber tore across the room, ruining the expensive carpet beneath his feet as more water dripped off him. He began to panic when he looked for a lettering system - or for at least _some_ form of categorisation that the files could have been in... he couldn't find an obvious one. He growled, choosing to go to the cabinet nearest to him at the time. He ransacked the first few drawers, pulling at his soggy hair in between each one when he'd had no luck in finding anything mentioning a certain baker. Feeling himself sweltering (even though he looked like a freezing drowned rat) with rage, he ripped off his trench coat, flinging it to the floor. He felt like he had more speed now he'd taken it off, racing through the files like he'd expected to win a medal for it. His fingers flicked through files, clutched at meaningless papers, scrunched up important looking land deeds... Everything he'd churned through was useless - there was no way he was going to find what he was looking for at this rate.

He was onto the third of presumably _dozens_ of drawers, when an approaching clack of footsteps came from the corridor outside. He cursed as his eyes pricked up at such a sound, and pushed in the drawer he'd been violently inspecting, grabbing his discarded coat from the floor. The noise grew in volume - his senses told him that the person was certainly bound for his destination and he began frantically searching the room for an escape... There were no windows for that so that had been a pointless idea. ' _Then I'll 'ave to hide - '_ His eyes widened as he spotted a little door that was tucked away to the left corner, quite a way away from the main room in fact. He dashed over the entire space of the meeting area in three-seconds flat, his footsteps barely making a sound. He threw open the door, slamming it shut rather loudly - to which he winced. He was in complete darkness, his breathing in rags as he dropped his trench coat somewhere behind him. He debated on whether he should hold onto the doorknob to make sure no one could get in, but such an action would be in vain - it would only attract attention. He leaned against the door-frame to his right, peeping through the glowing hinge. His back relaxed slightly, even though adrenaline was still pumping through his entire being. His nerves set on edge when he felt a cold shelf meeting with his spine - he flinched to see what it was, almost annoyed at himself when he saw it was only a shelf filled with glass bottles, jars and tumblers. The annoyance turned to the counsellors as soon as he realised he was in some sort of alcoholic closet, rather than a simple broom cupboard. _'Rich bastards,'_ he thought, turning back to his previous position, resting his head to the wall on his right, spying through the hinge.

Sweeney attempted to keep his breathing as controlled and quiet as he could, trying to also remain calm when he could see a figure routing through the filing cabinets - just like he had been moments ago. His defined brows furrowed in confusion - he could tell that the silhouette was not a counsellor, what on Earth were they doing there? Were they looking for the same thing as him? Or at least, had a similar idea? He watched the figure intently, fascinated by how much faster they were moving through files than him - but then again, they did look like they had a significantly smaller frame compared to him.

It wasn't long before a muffled gaggle of noise came from outside the room, causing the figure to freeze. Sweeney's bewildered frown seemed to deepen as the figure twirled about, papers flying everywhere as they scanned the room for a hiding place. His eyes grew when he realised the person was heading towards the door in front of him - he snatched forward to grip onto the handle (it was already a tight-squeeze for one person in there, and he certainly wasn't sharing with a total stranger - how _awkward)_... but he'd been too late.

As soon as the room's door flung open by a rabble of red-faced men, the hyper-ventilating figure had burst into the cupboard, quietly closing the door as quick as she could.

Sweeney looked like he'd seen a ghost when the woman backed herself tightly into him - a raising scream was about to come out of her when she felt another warm body behind her, and he yanked his arm forward, hand covering her cold mouth. He could feel the dampness of her clothing against his front, and uncomfortable with himself touching a complete stranger in such a way, he tore away, leaning back against the shelves behind him, the odd glass clinking. The woman was silent apart from her erratic breathing, he could tell she was holding in a frightened squeak. The situation was indeed rather awkward - the two of them in complete silence as the men outside rumbled in for what seemed like a very long, arduous meeting of some sort. God knows how long Sweeney would have to stay in the closet with a complete stranger. Already they were infuriating him due to the fact they were unable to keep their breathing controlled.

The woman soon began to fidget, causing Sweeney to let out an irritated sigh and hit his head to the door frame in order to check on the council's actions through the hinge. He gritted his teeth, really trying to ignore the woman moving against him - she was probably just trying to shrug her damp jacket off or something, but it still got on his nerves. It took ages for her to do so, it felt like ten minutes - but in reality, it was probably only a couple... He heard her coat fall to the ground and he rolled his eyes when she was still shuffling restlessly.

"For gods sake woman," he growled out in a whisper, standing up straight (instead of his slouched position) to clutch at the woman's barely covered shoulder. "Can you not stand _still?"_

The woman gasped with shock...

... and he widened his eyes, mouth in a straight line - he'd immediately recognised such a familiar sound.

"Mrs...

... _Lovett?!"_


	6. Communication

 

"Mrs... _Lovett?!"_ Sweeney whispered in confused, angry disbelief. The body shuffled towards him as it turned, the dim light highlighting some of the woman's features... only to confirm what he'd said - he could see lines of soppy auburn hair, smudges of opal cheekbones and gleams of her brown eyes in the shadows.

"Mr... _T?"_ Eleanor addressed back in a similar tone, her voice telling him she was probably frowning in confusion just as much as he was. There was silence, other than their breathing (which seemed extremely louder than usual) and the sound of monotonous droning voices outside. The two of them stood awkwardly - Sweeney avoiding looking at Nellie by peering through the hinge, and Nellie biting her lip as she couldn't take her eyes from Mr Todd (it didn't help that he was so close to her, she couldn't even recall _daydreaming_ of a situation like the one they were in now...).

Sweeney was indeed concentrating on the council's muffled conversation, listening intently - Mrs Lovett mirrored his actions, half listening to the men even though her eyes were firmly glued to the dishevelled, dripping barber in front of her. The two of them didn't ask why the other was there, they didn't need to. It was obvious why they were. Both of them felt relieved the other was there (not that Sweeney would be so content with admitting such a thing), no longer feeling they had to work out the problem alone.

There was nothing interesting about the council's topic at the moment, they were going through a never ending list of various complaints, not one of them mentioning a bakery, or Mrs Lovett. It was just like the files all over again...

He narrowed his eyes in annoyance, sensing Eleanor fidgeting again. She was itching to break the silence - it seemed like an opportunity she just _had_ to take, considering he was _trapped_ in there with her. She took a half-step forwards, his eyes darting towards her instantly... almost _daring_ her to say something. Usually she would wear a look of fear as he looked at her with obvious loathing, but instead her eyes shone with bright hopefulness. He still had his right ear to the hinge, yet his focus had been shifted slightly when his gaze settled on her. Her heart felt like it was going break free of her rib-cage any moment due to the furious rhythm it was hammering away to... she wouldn't have been surprised if Mr Todd could hear it from where he was stood.

"You're wet." he whispered suddenly, eyes trailing down her figure like he could see her perfectly well even through the darkness. There was no obvious tone to his statement, but she nearly fainted at the fact he'd wanted to start conversing with her (or perhaps it was more _what_ he'd said)... even if the situation was extremely awkward for the two of them.

"So's you Mr T! Fat lotta good coats were, ey?" she breathed back, biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. Her actions caught his attention and he frowned when he realised she'd made a joke - or tried to... his scowl was eventually joined by a devious smirk.

It was no use ignoring her now...

There she was, right in front of him, unfortunately being the most interesting thing about the room at that point... although, now he thought about it - there may well have been entire bottles of _gin_ in there (something apparently, _far_ more interesting than Mrs Lovett)...

Noticing his unreadable gaze lingering on her for longer than he usually cared to stare, she continued. "I 'ope this bleedin' meetin' don't last for 'ours Mr T," she whispered airily, hands on her hips and eyes studying his. " 'Else we're gonna 'ave to be extra quiet fer'all that time, ain't we?"

His smirk dropped, eyes dashing back to the hinge, arm holding himself up securely against the door-frame.

"So be it." he answered emptily, eyes filled with obvious amusement, although he held back the urge to smirk again. Eleanor felt the hotness reaching her cheeks at his words, and scoffed back an icy retort... she didn't want to alert the council outside if she was going to start gobbing off at him - _again._ She mirrored (more like _mocked)_ his actions like she had before, only she was fully eavesdropping now, eyes focused on the pitch-black ground below her feet. If he was going to be arsey with her then she wasn't going to be the one to fuel his sarcastic words. It was best not to give him attention now he was obviously teasing her.

The conversation outside was getting ridiculously lengthy, and not to mention tedious. Eleanor fought to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids kept drooping down every now and then. Sweeney on the other hand, was finding it hard to concentrate on the speech... seeing as he had no idea where to place his gaze. It had been too bright to stare out of the hinge any longer, and it's not like he could see anything anyway. And he certainly didn't know what to do with himself since Mrs Lovett was so damn close to him...

He couldn't exactly look _up_ (his face would be far too near to hers), or look left or right (he hated her gawking up at him when she thought he wasn't aware of her staring) - he certainly couldn't look _down..._

Yet he tried the last one regardless of the consequences of doing such a thing.

His eyes widened when he saw her rain-drop covered bust, much to his... _dismay?_ He wasn't sure that he was disappointed exactly... perhaps more _surprised,_ seeing as she was so near to him... a small ruler's length away to be more exact. Her chest heaved violently, probably due to the change in her temperature - or the close proximity of the barber she was head-over-heels in love with (not that he was aware of either... even though she'd already told him the latter).

Eleanor wasn't stupid, she was fully aware that he was taking interest in her very much _on show_ bosom (her neckline was more open than usual - the rain had caused her dress to be in a state of disarray), so she decided to play along by pretending that she was wrapped up in her eavesdropping - the situation was getting too much for her, if she'd looked back at him at the moment she didn't know _what_ the outcome would have been...

It seemed that once he'd snapped his eyes to her that first time, he couldn't tear them away from then on... at this point he was distracted from the important conversation outside. Internally he was cursing himself.

 _'The_ report. _That's what you're here for. You're_ certainly _not here to ogle your accomplice! Get yourself together man! The sooner you do, the sooner your vengeance will be complete - '_

His thoughts were cut off when she broke the silence between them.

"S'pose you 'eard that pryin' bugger last night then?" she asked, still giving him no notion that she was fully conscious of where he was looking. He gave a habitual grunt in reply, swallowing as he forcably managed to shift his eyes away from her. He finally settled on glaring at the shelves to his left, even if it did leave him vulnerable to her longing eyes. " 'Been lookin' for 'im since I got 'ere," he confessed, his voice husky as he raised it to be just above a whisper - which caused her to peer up at him with blatant desire. "I wanted to be rid of the man. But seems 'e's not 'ere... not even out there in that pointless meetin'... " He appeared to be irritable now the man he desperately wanted to kill had been brought up in conversation, his eyes narrowing further.

Eleanor took another half-step forward, her entire being now mere inches away from Sweeney... he couldn't overlook her bold advances now that her body was gently brushing over him. Yet he gave her no attention, still shooting a poisonous stare to the shelves to his right. However, he wasn't going to stop her actions, it would only make a fuss... and that was _not_ something he wanted to do in a claustrophobic cupboard, with prestigious councilmen droning on about complaints on the other side of the door. Heat rose to her cheeks, soon flushing to the rest of her body as she realised that he didn't seem in a hurry to protest about what she was doing. She wondered what he was thinking - it was difficult in normal situations to read him, let alone tense ones such as this. She used a gloved hand to fan herself, feeling a fever coming over her - she wouldn't have been surprised if she had gotten one due to the downpour she'd been out in earlier. His frown deepened at her actions - he could see her hand flapping up and down in his peripheral vision, even _that_ was distracting... could the woman not just _stay still_ for a bit? He gritted his teeth, still not looking at her for he knew where his eyes would be drawn to.

Her dress seemed significantly tighter as she puffed out air from her lungs... maybe she was claustrophobic? She didn't dwell on the thought, she was sure it was just because of the sodden clothes she was in - and of course, Mr T being unintentionally alluring, as always. She continued to fan herself, looking at anything but him... his presence was making her ten times hotter. She couldn't go on much longer like this...

"I think me poor bones is gonna drop any minute Mr T!" she gasped out, breathing severely.

His frown of irritation evolved into one of bewilderment when he quickly snapped his attention to her... his eyes had adjusted to the dark now, so he could see her more clearly - her hair was a complete mess, dark and sodden against her face (just as his was) and her dress ... well, less said about it the better. If he was completely honest... he did contemplate on whether he found her attractive in that moment... and he was kicking himself when he sort of... _did_ find her somewhat... _tempting._ Any other man would have probably kindly given her their coat at this point, but he hadn't, he was enjoying her out in the open... thoroughly drowned out, just like he was.

He was sure that his thoughts were readable through his gaze because her eyes widened as she looked back at him. She let out a silent gasp, falling backwards. He rolled his eyes, his reaction immediate as soon as she'd started toppling away from him. His arms shot forwards, hands clamping around the tops of her bare shoulders to stop her from colliding with the precariously stacked glass-work on the shelves behind her.

The barber couldn't recall ever being as close to the baker as he was when he yanked her body into him so she hit his chest firmly. He was thankful that he'd caught her in the nick of time - if he'd allowed her to fall back the noise would have been horrendous, he wasn't going to allow anything to cause them to be discovered now. He cursed himself again for being inattentive to his original purpose... he'd only made things worse by salvaging their chance of not being found. Mrs Lovett was _impossible_ to ignore now he'd pressed her against him... He took his hands away from her, but that didn't stop the close proximity between them.

He was sure she'd noticed his erratic breaths, because she looked up at him with desire-filled devotion... he gazed back at her with a building thirst, unable to look away from her... _'What the hell is she doing to me?'_ he thought, hands moving to his sides in order to clench into fists. _'Did she have this planned the whole time? Forcing me into an irresistable position? She's abhorrent... delirious..._ desperate... _she_ has _to be to think I'd... take notice of her in..._ that _sort of manner.'_

She, on the other hand, was amazed... _fascinated_ by the emotion clear as day in his eyes (this was something Mr Todd could not control, and something he could no longer deny to himself), never had she seen such a strong want in someone's stare...

...a strong want for _her._

Her head was spinning, fever taking over her senses as his disgust for her seemed to vanish in an instant. Before he could stop himself, his hands held either side of her neck, his head tipping downwards to look more directly at her.

 _"Mrs Lovett..."_ he whispered, eyelids hooding his dark eyes.

She felt apprehensive, reminded of a similar scene happening to her before... yet this time, she saw no mask to his emotions, no mockery... just plain desire. Her eyes faltered as she stared back into his black ones, they seemed darker as he lowered his face closer to hers.

She swallowed, still not processing what was happening... was he really... doing... this... now? _Now_ of all times?! Part of her was slightly annoyed with him... but that side of her was overcome when his fingers tightened around her neck's skin, ensuring she was focused on him. His touch sizzled into her, sending heatwaves tumbling through her entire body. She didn't move a muscle, awestruck with his advances... his eyes sliced through the darkness as he gazed at her like she was his prey, their foreheads touching as he pulled her towards him.

After all the times Mrs Lovett had put an effort into flirting with him, dropping not too subtle hints and of course, down-right exposing herself... apparently all she'd had to do was trap him in a broom cupboard with her...

If she'd have known that, she'd needn't have bothered with her over-the-top gestures.

A wave of anticipation swept through her as she suddenly came to her senses that Mr Todd wanting her _was_ actually happening, and that she wasn't in one of her rather realistic daydreams. He took a hand away from her to which she winced with rejection... but he merely rested it against the door-frame in support, moving his other to firmly grasp her chin.

The dull voices from outside seemed to raise in volume, making the two of them flick their eyes to the door... yet neither of them pulled away, they didn't want to. The conversation caught both murderer and accomplice's attention, suddenly forcing the two to listen... no matter how tempting their situation was.

 _"And what of Lovett's Emporium? Alexander?"_ a muffled, brash voice came. _"I take it you followed up the complaint?"_

Sweeney let out an airy wheeze, tearing away from his accomplice quickly in order to start flinging the door open... the man he'd been hunting _was there_ , and now owed the barber his _life_ (for making him traipse out in the _rain..._ and of course, for being the cause of why he was in such a pickle with Mrs Lovett at that moment) so there was no need for him to be waiting about -

Eleanor recognised the murderous look on his face and hushed him, hand lightly catching his chin to face her... his eyes were ablaze even as he looked at her then, breathing ragged as he looked her up and down. Her throat suddenly felt extremely dry.

Luckily the chattering from outside seemed to persuade Sweeney to stay dormant for the time being...

 _"Ah yes! Quite a few residents around the establishment had complained,"_ the familiar man's voice croaked. _"though I am certain that it was because they had been bribed by Lovett's competition to do so."_

The two partners in crime glared at each other in apprehensive unison... what was this man _saying?_

 _"I found no faults with the emporium whatsoever, and the pies are_ absolutely _exquisite! I daresay the_ best _pies in London!"_

They both held in breaths of relief, glaring at one another in amused surprise. Eleanor bit her lip to stop a giggle escaping her, to which Sweeney smirked sinfully... even if he _was_ slightly pissed off that he'd gone all that way in a downpour for nothing. And to think, the two of them had been thinking the worst... they definitely hadn't been expecting an overly _positive_ outcome...

The man continued jabbering on to praise her business, the barber raising his brows with an open mouth to complete his look of amusement. She let a bubble of a giggle out, quickly flinging a hand up to cover her mouth. He still hadn't taken his eyes off her, and for some strange reason her problem of 'being quiet' only entertained him further. He noticed her laughs were about to get louder and a wicked grin spread across his face... he relished seeing her try to tackle a keep-quiet challenge.

 _"And what of the scandals surrounding her business?"_ the first man's voice emerged again. _"The rumours of Lovett and the barber upstairs?"_

 _"The two of them interacted like business partners, nothing more. Although I was not there to study their characters, Sir Humphrey... "_ (at this Eleanor let out a little squeak, causing Sweeney to raise a brow - he was holding in his own snort at this point - a rumour about him being with _Mrs Lovett?!_ How ludicrous!) _"However, I do think the scandal and gossip is all part of the awe of Mrs Lovett's Pie Emporium... there is assuredly something unique about the place..."_

"Oh there's somethin' _unique_ alright... " Sweeney whispered, wearing a mock stern expression to encourage Eleanor's laughter. Another squeak came out of her, only it was louder this time - and that's when the conversation outside stopped... the two of them should have been panicking but they held in their laughing gas like they were students that had been sharing an in-joke under the watchful eye of a strict teacher.

His amusement was wiped clean off when he heard footsteps approaching the door... Eleanor let out a breathy laugh, and he shot her an icy stare, tugging her towards him again by her shoulders - he forced her to rotate around, her back brushing his front as his free hand firmly clapped over her mouth.

 _"I say... is there someone in there?"_ a ridiculously high-pitched voice came from the other side of the door, although it was still obvious it was from a man.

Nellie snuffled her chuckles into Sweeney's hand, knowing there wouldn't be much longer until she let her laughter-chords ring out. He carefully outstretched his leg to push his foot to the door, ensuring the man would not be able to push it open. Her back pressed into him, her giggles causing her entire body to shake ... which caused him to close his eyes and swallow... there was that lust again, crawling its way back into his bloodstream. He hated her making more problems, but... he warmed to the feel of her against his body as he attempted to hold her still. The woman was a walking contradiction to him... yet at least he now knew that he didn't completely despise her.

The doorknob rattled as the man tried opening the door, the barber narrowing his eyes at the man's futile attempts of pushing the door open. _'Weakling,'_ he thought, smirking as the man's shadow in the hinge disappeared, leaving with a huff.

_"Must have been the rats again, chaps!"_

Nellie cackled into his hand, to which he felt his blood rocket... out of both annoyance and anticipation. His hand stayed put on her mouth, the other grasped her waist in order to swivel her around to face him.

"Now," he breathed, her merriment being replaced with something dark, yet equally as delightful as she looked up at him through hooded eyes. "where were we, pet?"

He took his hand away from her, only so he could grip her chin to tilt her face at a suitable angle to match his. "M-Mr T..." she puffed out, her words were full of fear-drenched nerves though her eyes were encouraging him to push her further. "I-I don't know what's gotten inta ya bu - " He couldn't deny how much he wanted to shut her up, by any means necessary... her blabbering was certainly going to ruin the mood of the moment.

He let out a quiet murmur of annoyance as he slammed his lips over hers, desperate for her chatter to cease, desperate to explore his new found lust for her instead. She reacted to him in a heartbeat, her hands gripping fistfuls of his clothing as his tightly cupped around her jaw. _'Finally!'_ he thought, wishing he could let out a sigh of relief. _'At last, I've found one way to shut the woman up.'_ The moment he'd kissed her that week or so ago flashed before his eyes as their present kiss deepened, her hands suddenly had found their way into his hair, keen on tugging it into something even messier.

This type of intimacy... the secrecy of it, the inappropriate setting... the chance of getting caught, the way the two of them were still excessively soaked through... the _thrill_ of it... it reminded him of how his blood would pump sky-high just before he'd sweep his razor across a man's throat...

Only this craving was different...

For once both murderer and accomplice were needed in the same exact place, at the same exact time... and for once, would require compulsory communication with one another.

Those thoughts alone drove him crazier, causing him to push her back against the shelves, glass clinking as she happily leaned backwards. He could tell she was reeling with the thrill of what they were both thinking of doing... he was amazed at how obliging she was, how she was not even questioning his sudden change of mood towards her. She took a hand from his locks to yank fistfuls of his waistcoat, like she needed something to cling onto. She only just surpressed moans as his kisses grew more violent and hungry. Her body sank further backwards, glass bottles shifting as he continued pushing his lips into her, his hands sweeping down her body to clutch her tightly at her waist. The disruption of glass caused her to break away from him, the two of them panting unevenly. She exposed her neck to him as she tilted her head back, desperate for a few more seconds of air.

The man confused her. What had made him want her so much? She hadn't even done anything to warrant him feeling such lust... but then again, she supposed she _was_ utterly drenched...

Before she could lean back up, he'd set to attacking her neck with kisses, licks and nips... she bit her already swollen lip, body feeling limp as his thumbs needed her sides - his touch burned her, even through all those layers of bodice and skirts.

A little whimper crept out of her when he found her mouth again, his left hand venturing up to her scalp to wreck her hairstyle further. Her chest heaved against his torso, he could even feel her heart racing through all the layers of clothing between them. Another little noise escaped her as his right hand moved from her side, only to lay flat in order to firmly explore the shape of her body. She was thankful he was kissing her at that moment - if he hadn't been she would certainly have been overly loud.

What she was experiencing was better than any dream of him she'd ever had. He was not gentle or kind like he was whenever he was in her dreams - he was daring and harsh with his actions towards her... which she strangely found more exciting than the softness her subconscious had envisioned.

She'd wanted this to last forever, but it was he who pulled away, that malevolent glint in his orbs as he starved over her. She let out a groan of frustration, her body feeling like it was intoxicated. His mischievous expression did not falter as he placed a single pale index finger to her lips to silence her.

It was then that she noticed that the councilmen were nowhere to be heard...

And Sweeney let go of her, not taking his eyes away from her confused, disappointed eyes. He crouched to the ground, peering up at her still, grabbing both of their useless coats from the floor.

Her eyes filled with realisation as he threw her jacket at her, her hands flinching to catch it. He shrugged his trench-coat on, nearing her again, luring her in again. Hope flooded her body, her legs quivering as his nose brushed the tip of hers - she closed her eyes, waiting for him to make his move.

Yet he smirked, letting out an audible amused scoff.

Her eyelids squeezed in rejection as she felt him move away from her, and heard him shuffle towards the door. He left her there feeling like a pathetic woman filled with unfulfilled desires... which was to be honest, exactly what she was.

He briefly looked back at her over his shoulder, hand poised over the doorknob.

With another evil smirk he turned the handle, light flooding into the drink-filled closet.

He left without a word. Not gazing back once to check whether she was following him or not.

What _was_ the man playing at?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do have more... 6 more chapters to tell the truth. I'll leave it here for now, and see how everyone likes it. If you do, then I'll post the rest of what I have and continue updating from there! And just a brief warning, it does get progressively darker after this chapter! Thanks for getting this far :)


	7. The Green Eyed Monster

It had been roughly three weeks since the broom cupboard incident.

Both barber and baker had spoke nothing of that day - and for once they were both opposites.

Mrs Lovett had barely uttered a word to him once she'd returned back from the council hall to her shop, and had remained silent whenever she was around him - she supposed she was giving him what he wanted, but she was past caring. Nothing else had changed between them, she still did her usual duties of body disposal, and of course, providing for the infuriating barber.

Unlike Mr Todd, who was _dying_ to bring up the subject of what had happened, just to see her in a situation that she had no clue how to handle - he found it fascinating to watch her when she was awestruck or angered.

He hated to admit that he'd rather liked the strange encounter they'd had together, even _enjoyed_ the look of desperation on his accomplice's face as he'd left her wanting more. He kept denying that internally he'd wanted to carry on with what they were doing just as much as she did - he'd snatch at any chance he'd get like that again. He knew that she wouldn't be so hasty to reject him, even though he was well aware that what he'd done had left her feeling more than a bit "used". Recently, he would often find himself thinking of her at times when he should have been focusing on the task at hand... sometimes that was quite literally.

Like on this particular evening in mid December, he was busy at work, razor perched perfectly in his palm. The man he was shaving chattered aimlessly, directing his speech towards his wife and young son, who had rather _annoyingly_ joined the man for his trip to the barbers. It was also a blessing that the man was ignoring the artful barber, because Mr Todd's ears pricked up every time he spoke. It was obvious that the man irritated him - it was unfortunate that Mr Todd would have to hold his sarcastic tongue, let alone his twitchy razor.

As the silver blade glided across the man's stubble-washed neck, Sweeney managed to lose himself in his own thoughts. The nattering was soon background noise to his real focus as he stared back at the slit of his reflection in the razor.

He was telling himself to concentrate on his ambition, his _revenge..._ but he couldn't get the image, or the feel of his accomplice out of his head.

That look of longing in her eyes as she gazed at him, those sodden locks pressed onto her face, her damp clothes brushing against him, her hands clutching frantically at his hair...

... in that memory of her, that desperate look she wore was somewhat warped, and held something deeper that he could not fully comprehend.

He _hated_ thinking about her.

It certainly wasn't right that he was letting her in.

Yet he decided that Sweeney Todd was never one for doing things right, so there was no need to be getting annoyed at himself for thinking about the woman in such an intimate way...

... after all, it wasn't as if the baker was going to get in the way of his vengeance, in fact she was already aiding him enormously - and she'd only _encouraged_ him in the first place.

Now he thought back, his train of thought actually seemed plausible.

He circled around the chair so he could reach the other side of the customer's nape - the man was still rambling to his family, rather excitedly about some happy nonsense. Mr Todd hated how fast he was talking, and how high pitched - the man couldn't have been _that_ joyous, surely? Mr Todd paused a moment, using a pristine white cloth to wipe his razor clean, risking a glance out of his window.

London was a backdrop of black outside, faint glows of gas-lamps in the distance revealed the subliminal shadows that crept along the cobbles.

 _'How could someone with a family feel happy here?'_ he asked himself, spotting a few more hunched silhouettes further away, ears being attacked by the drivel of mumbled conversation from behind him. _'This is as close to a living hell that you can get. It's infested with vermin! Surely they must see the danger?'_

An internal voice seemed to answer him.

 _'Clearly not. Seeing as_ you _are also part of that danger... '_

He hid a sneer and returned to his previous position, continuing to give the man a deliberately close shave. He itched to swipe the blade nearer, but he knew that he'd be tempted to do something bloodthirsty, and with the witnesses behind him, he certainly couldn't risk doing such a thing.

He cast his memory back to his accomplice, wondering what she'd be doing at that moment. He didn't know what suddenly made him so curious about her. Maybe it was because he hadn't heard her voice nagging him for so long - perhaps he even _missed_ it? He wasn't sure anymore, he wasn't even sure when he'd last tried to remember his late wife. It seemed the escapade with Eleanor Lovett had overwritten his memories of Lucy, he could only recall a blurred face with yellow hair now... her eyes could have been any old colour for all he knew.

He cursed himself internally, jolting himself out of his mind seeing as he'd nearly cut the man by accident... (Not that he cared too much about customer welfare...)

 _'Come on! Focus, damn it!'_ he scolded himself, frown gracing his brow. _'Mrs Lovett is certainly no fitting_ replacement _for Lucy. Nothing will_ ever _replace what she was to m- him.'_

He shuffled further around the chair, so that he was directly in front of his client. He bent forward in order to reach the bottom of his throat, eyes glazed over in empty thought.

 _'And if Lucy were alive now I'm sure she'd be ever so_ proud _of the man her Benjamin has become... '_ he snapped at himself, his hand taking a firmer scrape across the man's skin.

He knew that his late wife wouldn't have approved, nor coped with the man he was now. Yet Mrs Lovett had always seemed more than willing to help either man... he found that quite puzzling. What he found even more puzzling was why he was suddenly comparing his accomplice to his late wife - why should he be contrasting a pure, yellow-haired beauty to...

He didn't really know how to describe what Mrs Lovett was.

Especially to _him._

He'd ruled out his hatred for her, perhaps he was merely disgusted? Then again, he hadn't once winced or pushed her off when she'd reacted back to him that day in the cupboard...

When he thought back, _he'd_ been the one to _initiate_ such a thing happening... _twice._

He was beginning to realise that perhaps Mrs Lovett was becoming more than just a helpful neighbour, landlady and accomplice.

He was furious with himself for thinking of the ridiculous idea, the razor travelling across the man's skin for a longer, harsher period of time. He clenched his teeth, eyes ablaze - thank god the customer had his eyes shut or he would have probably ran a mile. Mr Todd brashly swiped his blade across the coarse skin once more, cutting the last of the stubble in one fierce attack. The customer's eyes flew open at the rushed action, jolting upwards - only to stop dead in horror at the empty scowl he was faced with. Luckily he hadn't been chattering at this particular time - his wife and son seemed too occupied in their own conversation.

The man started to immediately feel uncomfortable under the barber's dagger-like eyes. He started to sit upwards, wishing to be as far away from his barber as possible.

But Mr Todd would never allow such a thing.

He laid a hand firmly on the man's shoulder, forcing him to sit back in the chair.

_"Wh-What on - "_

The barber sneered and suddenly had a flannel in his hands, roughly clearing the rest of the lather from the man's throat and chin. He folded the damp cloth and crept away from the confused man, placing it on his vanity. The man instantly stood, no longer wanting to sit in the chair - he knew there was something... _off_ with the place... not to mention with _the barber..._

"How do I look?" the customer asked his family once he was away from Mr Todd. He was unlikely to visit again - the man gave him the creeps. Not that Mr Todd was disappointed about that - the man appeared to be a downright "do-gooder"... in other words, the customer was someone he could _not_ put up with being around again.

"You look dashing, my dear!" his wife replied, standing up straight as she cupped his freshly groomed cheeks. "I daresay you have never looked smarter!"

Mr Todd rolled his eyes as he looked into his broken mirror. He urged to march over there and demand his payment, but he knew he'd been unsettling enough to the man before... he hoped that his manner wouldn't affect his payment...

He didn't turn to look at them, the sight made him shiver in disgust. He should have been wishing that _that_ was what he had - _a family_ \- but he didn't like the sight at all. He felt uneasy with how content they were - it wasn't like he didn't want to be happy himself, because of course he did - he _longed_ for contentment. It was more... the fact he'd know to keep the joy to himself, unlike the family behind him, who practically threw it in his face - like they were mocking him for what he could never have. Or at least, have _again._

"Nathaniel," the woman's voice piped up again - she was presumably talking to the young boy she'd been sat next to before. "how about you go and give the barber his money?"

The boy nodded, small feet hitting the floor as he pushed himself from the chair he'd been sat on.

His parents linked arms and stared out of the window, his mother seemingly uninterested in her son as he neared the two of them. She blindingly fished out a note and a few coins from her purse, the boy's little hand only just catching them all as she dropped them out of her grasp.

The blonde haired boy turned, tightly gripping onto the money as he faced the barber, who was still frowning into his mirror, arms stiffly by his sides. The boy shuffled closer, resisting the urge to look back at his parents for support.

Even though his mother and father were nearby, he felt slightly abandoned... and scared. The barber was not someone that looked kind, or helpful, or... interested. It was like he knew something that the boy and his parents didn't - his steely gaze was laced with some kind of sadistic amusement. Though the boy didn't think anything was remotely funny - that only made him more fearful.

He took another little step forward, the creaking below his shoes causing him to pause and shiver.

The darkness of the man made him feel unsettled - the unkempt black hair with that suspicious white streak, the dust coated clothes, the heavy grey shadows circling his eyes...

It was as if the man had just popped up out of one of those ghost stories that one of his older siblings would often tell.

The boy's being shivered when he had finally reached where the terrifying man was stood, perfectly motionless. The child was quiet, and just merely lifted his small arm up with caution, eyes wide when he realised that the barber was turning towards him.

Those black, secret-bearing eyes hammered into the lad's grey-eyed stare, his small hand unleashing the payment out of his palm. Expecting the scatter of objects hitting the floor, the boy squeezed his eyes shut, amazed when there was not a single sound.

He snapped open his eyes, losing bewilderment when he saw that the barber had managed to catch the money in his cupped palms. The strange man looked rather unimpressed. However a flicker of a smirk may have reached his mouth.

"Don't forget to thank the man, Nathaniel." his mother reminded him, going on to natter to her husband as she pointed at something out of the window.

The lad shuffled, unable to tear away from the calculating barber's gaze. He huffed out breaths, like his little lungs were being crushed by an invisible force. With a long inhale, he managed to puff out: "F-Fank you, sir."

He scurried away, sprinting over to his parents - he completely missed the grateful nod Mr Todd had given him before he'd ran away.

This only amused the barber further.

"C-Can we go now?" the lad asked in a small rush, yanking on the material of his father's trouser leg.

"Yes, of course, lad." the man chuckled, reaching down to lift up his son in order to carry him.

"You two go on down, I shall meet you at the bottom of the stairs. I must speak with Mr Todd for one moment." the mother whispered, waving the two of them towards the door. The man frowned but nodded, his son in his arms as he exited, the bell chiming out.

Mr Todd was in the middle of tucking away his earnings into his pocket, and held an irritated expression when he settled his gaze onto the woman who stood by the door.

_Just when he thought he'd gotten rid of them..._

"I don't wish to pry," she said innocently - he gritted his teeth, because she obviously _was._ "but I thought that I should warn you about the baker below - " His eyes immediately narrowed, causing her to stumble her speech and visibly shake. " - I d-do not wish to be a busy body, but if you are intending to court the woman, it may be in your interest, sir. There is a man she has been conversing with for the majority of this evening. She seemed more than happy to feel... _comfortable_ with his company."

He scowled at her, eyes already filled with poisonous envy.

What was this woman's intention? And was it really that obvious that he'd had Mrs Lovett on his mind? What on Earth would have possessed this woman to say such a thing? It wasn't her place to say anything at all.

"I thought it was best that you should know, seeing as the man she has been socialising with is, in fact, a suspected criminal. Mrs Lovett is such a wonderful woman, I would hate to see her corrupted in such a way."

 _'Like_ I _care! She's as corrupt as anyone can be!'_ he sneered, wishing he could bite back at the woman, but he knew that for some reason, her intentions were actually in his favour. _'And a criminal chatting her up, you say? Well, how_ befitting. _Perhaps she'll turn him cannibal too, just like she has done to the rest of her customers.'_

"I felt that I needed to warn someone. And you seem like a more than capable man, Mr Todd." the woman added sincerely, like she was hinting at something. He merely looked down to the ground at his feet with the most maddening flash in his eyes.

"I must be off now." she quickly said, wringing her hands as she turned - she'd already opened the door, afraid due to the man's absurd reaction. "Thank you for your service again."

With that the door slammed.

A breath of compressed air was quickly released...

Then Sweeney suddenly sprung into a frenzy of life.

Heightened envy shook his body as his eyes lifted to his window, which overlooked Mrs Lovett's cherished patio area.

He balled his hands into fists, jaw setting as he stormed across the floorboards.

 _'What's_ wrong _with me?! Mrs Lovett can talk to anyone she likes. Who she courts is no concern of mine. It will certainly make no difference to me -_

 _\- yet, there must be a reason why that woman just warned me._ Me, _of all people... If that man is indeed a dangerous individual... I couldn't have my business partner at risk.'_

The jealousy still roiled through him, something he was attempting to ignore for the time being. He was obviously trying to deny the fact he already hated the man's guts just for getting close and listening to Mrs Lovett.

Listening to Mrs Lovett was Mr Todd's job - adamantly he was utterly _awful_ at it, but he did it nonetheless. He wasn't going to give someone else the satisfaction of doing so now.

His dark eyes scanned over the cluttered tables, the oblivious masses, the fallen drunkards, the tainted tailors, the secluded sailors...

His glare set in stone once it rested upon a certain breathless baker.

The woman had been correct.

For once, Eleanor Lovett wasn't alone.

She was sitting on one of the benches outside, just like she would often do at that time of night. Mr Todd knew it was to check up on the customers, both going up his stairs and those that sat around her. What he didn't realise, was that she was also hoping for him to join her, or at least approach her about something that she could fix...

She missed him.

Yet she would always look like she was coping tremendously well. Because masking how she truly felt was also a design flaw with Mrs Lovett, even if it did come in handy now and then.

That night, however, a man was sat next to her, gloved hands cupping around a beaker of ale. His hair was hidden by the dusty flat cap on his head, but Sweeney could see the flicks of dark brown sticking out. He also noticed that the man was littered with stubble - how _fortunate..._

He attempted to lip read them both, but the two of them were giggling so much that he couldn't make out a single syllable. He audibly growled and let his head fall forwards, hitting the cold pane of glass with a fragile thump. He wanted to be rid of the man, and this time, he wasn't going to change his mind. It was set in stone.

The man had _to go._

He stood up straight, closing his eyes as all expression of jealousy dropped from his face. He appeared to look neutral, yet welcoming - unlike how he was feeling internally... he felt like he was spitting fire.

Like he was burning up.

He slung off his jacket and vest, rolling up his shirt's sleeves. He could already feel the anticipation of murder reverberate through him - he would have to kill the threat as soon as he could. Even if it wasn't the conventional method - there was no way he could possibly charm an experienced criminal up the stairs for a shave, especially if he had no money.

But there was another way Sweeney had thought of...

It would be impossible for the man to resist.

He marched over to his shop door, that neutral look on his face as he threw it open, rushing out in a determined manner. It slammed as he confidently stomped down the staircase, eyes fixated on his prey - who at the time was practically charming the bloomers off Mrs Lovett.

 _'Don't break now.'_ Sweeney told himself, gritting his teeth into something half-way between a grin and a grimace. _'This evening has finally got interesting.'_

He skimmed his eyes over the gobbling customers as he neared his desired destination - it was nice to see that his victims were being put to good use, even if they would have the most foul flavour (at least, he supposed, he decided early on in their business plan that neither him nor Mrs Lovett were ever to try the pies - meat from _vermin_ was in them, after all...).

He sharply turned his head when he knew he'd reached the location of the two... he couldn't even bring himself to think of them both socialising - it made him feel _ill._

Clearly he'd arrived at the time that the man had said something _hilarious_ , seeing as the baker was in fits of laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks.

 _'Yet another reason that the man has to go.'_ he thought, narrowing his eyes at her - he hated her being so amused. Her giggles weren't the same when he hadn't been the source of her laughter, they sounded almost forced and hostile to the ears. It wasn't like when he'd been in the cupboard with her... those chuckles had been more than welcome sounds.

Yet her laughter at that moment made him feel uncomfortable.

The two hadn't noticed the barber, and were still glued to one another, clearly engrossed in their _fascinating_ conversation. He waited a few more seconds, face emotionless even though he was tense and quite frankly appalled at what was taking place before his eyes.

Their backs were to him, but he could see Mrs Lovett's face perfectly well, since she was slightly sat to the side.

She looked like she was glowing from the amount of attention this man was giving her, her eyes glittering with tears of amusement. The man was about to crack another joke of some sort - Sweeney could tell from the bubbling anticipation on her features...

That's it.

He'd had enough.

He'd only stood there for a couple of seconds, but _by god..._ he couldn't stand anymore.

He held a stern expression as he rounded the edge of the table, fiercely bringing his hands down to smack onto the surface loudly - this alerted the two gigglers immediately, and they were rendered speechless.

Mr Todd glared at the man, who was even scruffier now that he could see his face.

The allegedly dangerous man was rugged looking, yet his eyes were dark blue, and had a soft twinkle about them. This was something that made the barber want to throw up.

Mrs Lovett swallowed as she laid eyes upon Mr Todd, wondering what on Earth he was planning on doing... he certainly didn't look his usual empty self - he looked _bothered,_ and it was the first time that he'd left his shop during the evening, for quite some time. Yet she had an inkling what had caused him to do such a thing - but she tossed the idea aside, no way would he care about who she was associating herself with.

"There you are." Mr Todd said rather lightly to the man, Eleanor's jaw almost dropping from her skull at his almost soft tone of voice. "I'd wondered where _you'd_ got to."

The man's blue eyes widened into saucers and he opened his mouth to bluntly insult the barber, but instead was cut short when Mr Todd had managed to dart forward and claw a hand into his shoulder. The barber was yanking the man upwards, forcing him to follow orders or else he'd only feel more pain.

The apparent criminal stood up from the bench reluctantly, eyes wide as he gaped at Eleanor, unable to get out what he was truly wanting to say. He found Mr Todd to be an absolute nutter - he had only only chatting to the attractive, widowed baker that he'd just met, what was the stranger's problem?

He wanted to retaliate, brawl with the barber... but he couldn't, certainly not in public. He was lying low after escaping prison after all. He'd have to go along with the lunatic for a bit before he gave him a good seeing to.

 _"Adrian!_ Where ya goin'? Ya ain't even finished yer ale!" Eleanor exclaimed with disappointment, blinking in confusion when Mr Todd seemed eager to guide the man towards his stairs.

"Oh, don't worry yourself too much Mrs Lovett," Mr Todd replied, the most convincing look of honesty in his eyes as he spoke to her, hand still painfully grappling into the man's shoulder. _"Adrian_ has earned himself a shave, free of charge. All down to his kindness and _generosity._ He was such _a help_ earlier."

She looked at them both with worry - she should have been concerned about the man (now known to have the name Adrian) going along with Mr Todd. She should have been gazing into his eyes and praying that no harm would come to him... it wasn't usual for Mr Todd to speak so highly of someone, especially a man who she hadn't even been aware that he had known.

But she wasn't looking at Adrian at all.

The eyes of Sweeney Todd had caught her off-guard, hypnotising her to her very core.

She suddenly felt extremely guilty for flirting with a perfect stranger... she'd wanted to do so just so she could interact with someone, but it had gone on far longer than she had intended.

Even though Adrian had been interesting and funny, he was certainly no Sweeney Todd.

The shocked eyes of Adrian didn't even stop her from getting lost in Mr Todd's seemingly warm glare. The idea that he could have been wearing such an emotion as a mask hadn't even entered her head.

It should have, because it truly _was_ a front.

The barber subtly pushed the man so that he would take a few more steps forward towards the stairs, the victim still looking utterly confused - he'd never met the barber in his life! What had he been on about? Then he began to wonder whether the mad-looking man was actually under-cover for Scotland Yard...

Then he really _would_ have to give him a damn good kicking.

Deciding that was probably who Mr Todd actually was, he played along, genuinely looking grateful, "Oh that is kind o'ya, sir. Me given ya an' 'elpin' 'and were no trouble at all! And after all this time I could use a bleedin' shave!"

Mr Todd resisted the urge to gag... the man had a stronger accent than Mrs Lovett did, and hers was hard enough to bear for him at times. The strong scent of ale was all over the man too - that certainly didn't help with Sweeney's desire to be sick.

Even though disgust washed over him, he feigned a welcoming smile. He hovered at the base of the stairs, his hand leaving the man so that he could hold his arms stiffly on either of the banisters - he had the man trapped now, there was no escape... _Adrian_ would _have_ to go upstairs.

And Adrian would, given that he thought he was going to have a good old fashioned fight with a man who he gathered was really an informant for Scotland Yard.

It seemed that tonight, the odds were in favour of Sweeney Todd.

But how long would that last?


	8. Neglected Conscience

Mrs Lovett sat on one of the benches outside, chin in her palms as she gazed towards Mr Todd's tonsorial parlour. It had been a long time since Adrian had gone up those stairs - naturally, she was only thinking of the worst possible outcome...

Yet she knew that she couldn't sit there much longer, she had a business to run. But she still needed to know that Mr Todd hadn't _offed him,_ so she asked a loyal customer to keep an eye out for any living evidence of the man. She would check back with the customer later on in the night...

And she did.

The client told her that there had been no sign of him - she attempted to keep hold of herself, and not jump to any conclusions. It was hard not to, especially knowing Mr Todd's murderous tendencies.

"Oh that's strange," Mrs Lovett replied to the woman who'd been her lookout, even though the woman didn't appear to be listening. "thought 'e'd be down by now. Per'aps 'e just went down the other way... "

Oh he'd probably gone _down_ alright.

"Not t'worry, love!" she added, turning away with frightened eyes. "Thanks ever so much f'the 'elp."

The night seemed to drag on forever - customers never ever seemed to leave - dirty pots and whatnots only continued to pile up ... by the end of the evening, Eleanor was grateful that it was finally closing time. If Toby had been present she knew she would only be aching half as much, then again she had no clue where the lad had got to. He'd probably found a family that were far better off financially than her and Mr T put together. She wouldn't blame him for doing such a thing. However, it had been nice to have a child around her, that way she could at least play pretend for a while. And it had its perks... even if he _had_ gotten in the way at times.

She let out a heavy, fatigued sigh as she walked through her parlour, her body bent slightly due to her exhaustion and concern. Adrian was still in the back of her mind, and she certainly wasn't going to venture out into the bakehouse now... she didn't know how she'd feel if she saw his lifeless, crippled form down there. But she did know that such a scene certainly wouldn't break her heart.

And that's one reason why she didn't go down there to have a peep, even though internally she knew she wanted to.

There would be too much guilt.

And she wanted to go on thinking he was alive... she would be able to accept that he was dead tomorrow - if he was indeed _deceased_ , of course. For the time being she needed her rest.

She reached her bedroom door, looking down at the bottom of her skirts, eyes filled with regret. Yet she did not succumb to what she really wished to do, the thought of the charming man with his throat slit open from ear-to-ear hurt her enough already.

She shook her head, deciding her speculations were nothing definite and entered her room.

* * *

The next morning, Eleanor Lovett felt uneasy.

She sat up in her bed lazily, strands of dark red hair messily falling to rest over her collarbone. Her dreams had been filled with the memories of the charismatic man she'd met the night prior - he'd been ever so kind to her, he'd noticed she'd been sat alone and had wondered how such a beautiful woman could sit there all by herself. A compassionate person such as Adrian did not deserve a swift slice from one of Mr Todd's infamous razors.

She prayed that the barber hadn't harmed him.

Thankfully, today was Sunday. Both the barber and the baker had the day off, so there was no reason she wouldn't be able to approach Mr Todd about the whereabouts of the man. Not that she was expecting to get even a slight murmur of reply out of him.

She cautiously swung her legs out of her bed, feeling the cold air swirl over her bare skin. She swallowed and hurried upwards, practically pouncing out of bed. The sooner she got her dress, the better.

She squinted, her tired eyes adjusting to the darkness as she looked over her room. She felt that something was out of place.

That 'something' soon came to her attention - it was flat on the ground by her door and caused her to frown in confusion. Finding that her curiosity surpassed the fact her eyes were still sensitive, she rushed to her window, flinging open the curtains that hung across it. Light flooded into the place, the room bursting into life. She padded over to the object on the floor - which she could now recognise to be a piece of crumpled paper.

She snatched it from the ground, unfolding it to read the lines of a scribbled message. The writing was a slanted scrawl, unlike the artful writing most scribe's were taught to have. Yet she was able to read it with little difficulty.

_'Lovely baker, won't you meet me for a spot of fresh air?'_

She blinked, like she couldn't believe her eyes. The note could only be from one person - clearly not the person she truly wished such a proposal to be from. The idea of _Mr Todd_ attempting to go out with her made her audibly snort.

_'You shall find me around St Dunstan's market just before noon. I hope to see you there. Until then, lovely baker.'_

It was signed _'Adrian Evans',_ not that she had thought otherwise - although her heart had began to race at the last sentence. It was that one remaining slither of hope that it was the barber asking her... but of course, it hadn't been him at all.

 _'Well,'_ she thought to herself, breathing a sigh of relief. _'at least 'e's bleedin' alive! 'E_ must've _gone down the other stairs after seein' Mr T, no wonder none o' the customers saw 'im! Or else 'ow would 'e 'ave delivered this?! Thank 'eavens!'_

She began racing around in an excited rush to get herself ready. She couldn't recall the last time she'd been out with a man who was genuinely interested in her - that thought only made her want to make more of an effort. She threw open her wardrobe, rifling through all sorts of stockings and undergarments, tossing them aside carelessly to then sort through an array of dresses. It wasn't long until she found the perfect piece of clothing - she just hoped it wasn't going to rain, otherwise there would be problems.

Mrs Lovett suddenly paused in shock, draping the dress over her shoulder.

She realised she had no clue what time it was.

She cursed and started to pull the infuriating dress over her head, then over the rest of her undergarment-covered body. She hated being in a rush, but she wasn't taking any chances. She skipped to the other side of her room, humming away to herself giddily as she sat down at her dressing table, gazing at her reflection.

She thought she looked dreadful.

"Nothin' a bit 'o rouge won't fix." she told herself, chuckling.

She was genuinely looking forward to seeing Adrian now. She craved a good chat, not to mention the fact she'd be with a true gentleman... not that she was aware that he was an apparently wanted _criminal,_ of course.

Once she had finished applying her makeup, she combed through her hair and wrapped it up into two pigtails which ended in curled ringlets. It was surprising how little effort she had put into her hair, it seemed it could always sort itself out.

After another ten minutes or so, she felt she looked suffice. She hoped the man would appreciate her effort - she knew he would. If he had taken notice of her the night before, he was definitely going to be appreciative on this day. Before leaving her room, she grabbed her coat, remembering the December weather. It was cold enough inside her room already, she knew outside would be ten times worse.

She flung on her coat, peeking through her door's hinge as she bent down and picked Adrian's note back up, a sweet smile gracing her lips as she carefully left it on a nearby dresser. There was no sign of life outside of her room, so she stood up straight, and ventured into her parlour. The memories of Toby lying on the floor completely unconscious filled her mind entirely as she passed through, her eyes glancing over the rug in front of the fireplace. She should have been concerned about his whereabouts, but she felt too giddy to care. She could be unintentionally careless sometimes, and she would often regret it in the long run.

She practically danced through to her shop door, biting her lip to stop any joyous giggles from spilling out. She wondered about telling Mr Todd - then again, it wasn't like he'd care. As she locked the door to her shop, she smiled to herself.


	9. The Replacement

The sky was a pale grey-ish blue, and devoid of any clouds. That however, didn't stop the fact that the air was bitterly cold and suddenly Eleanor was thankful she had worn her coat. She found that the smile didn't leave her lips even as she began to walk from her shop, even when she glanced back to the barber's window - although something tugged at her to go back, to not even meet the man at all.

She ignored it.

Lost in her unusual regret and excitement, she failed to notice that someone was tailing her. Their eyes were glued to her as she smiled to herself, wandering in the direction of St Dunstan's market, swinging her hips as she went.

Her skirts skimmed across the cobbles with each step she took, her hands rubbing together for warmth. Her eyes were bright and alert, and she made sure to wave or smile at any customers she recognised along the way - she had to keep up appearances, even when she wasn't working. She had her hopes up about the day ahead - she sensed that something unexpected was going to happen, then again maybe that was because felt overly confident about herself. She wasn't so sure.

It wasn't long until Mrs Lovett reached her destination. She decided that she'd lie low in a nearby alley until Adrian arrived, she was probably a bit early - not that she minded waiting.

Her mysterious follower paused a few metres away, mixing in with the sea of people going about their Sunday business. The stalker watched in silent intrigue as she unbuttoned her jacket then adjusted the neckline of her dress, only revealing more of her cleavage - she was going to impress somebody, whether that was what she intended to do or not. She turned away from the stranger, taking a few more cautious steps into the alley so that she was under a hood of shadows - weirdly, she seemed more at ease now she was in the darkness. She stood with her hands crossed over her stomach, looking down at the stream of water flowing down the side of the cobbles below her feet.

She bit her lip with anticipation, maybe even worry - she wasn't even sure if Adrian would ever turn up. Even though he'd seemed more than keen the night before.

As Mrs Lovett was apparently distracted by trying to look like she didn't mind waiting at all, the stranger took the opportunity to emerge from the mass of busy Londoners and ducked down towards the alleyway she waited in. Their harsh pants were silent but visible due to the crisp temperature, their hands balled by their sides as they gradually advanced towards the expectant baker. Their stealth was successful since Eleanor still had no clue they were there, she resumed staring down at the trickling water like it was extremely fascinating. She let out a heavy breath, the air she pushed out of her mouth visibly white even in the shadows.

The stranger paused, weighing up what they actually intended to do. They weren't sure why they had decided on following Mrs Lovett, yet there was no time for regrets now - they were there now, whether they liked it or not. There had been too much planning for them to turn back now.

They crept closer to the oblivious woman, polished leather shoes squeaking ever so slightly with each footstep they took.

She lifted her head up, causing them to freeze.

Luckily she had her back to them, so they just carried on.

They didn't stop nearing her until they stood a few inches behind her, looming over her like some sort of sinister cloaked wraith. They let out an exasperated sigh, the hot breath coating the back of her neck.

She frowned at the sensation and itched the spot where she'd felt the air hit her, but thought nothing more of it - she decided it was just her jittery imagination now that she'd been waiting for quite some time.

The stranger glared at her, one arm extending out in order for pale fingertips to grasp her.

She let out a harsh inhale at the contact of a frosty hand on her shoulder. Her eyes were as big as saucers as another arm reached around her other side, coiling around the top of her waist and the bottom of her rib-cage.

Their actions caught her off-guard, and her lungs were constricted from the pressure the arms were squeezing around her. She huffed out shallow breaths, her shock not helping with the fact she was already struggling for air. The stranger was silent, but she was certain that it could only be Adrian - after all, it wasn't usual for Mrs Lovett to catch the eye of the common thief - and she knew that no crafty _thief_ would ever hold anyone in such a _suggestive_ manner...

At least, that's what she hoped.

She closed her eyes, wheezing as she waited for them to demand what they wanted - or at least tell her who they were. She hated being left in the dark, in this case, quite literally. The only communication she got from them was hollow breaths, like they were struggling to breathe just like her. They squeezed her tighter and she let out a little yelp, feeling their torso press up against her spine.

If this was Adrian's idea of greeting her, she was beginning to worry. She had no idea who he really was, he could have been a notorious _murderer_ for all she knew! She couldn't believe how stupid she was for thinking that this had been a good idea.

But who could blame her, she'd just wanted someone's attention.

She felt the man rest his chin on her shoulder, her reaction was to tilt her head backwards so that his wiry hair could no longer tickle her skin - she felt repulsed by his actions and squirmed, yet that only made the man clutch her tighter. She opened her mouth to let out a blood-curdling scream, yet the man immediately noticed her intentions and clamped a stiff hand over her mouth.

Déjà vu was finally setting in.

 _"Shh."_ he hushed, the prominent bridge of his nose trailing up from the base of her neck to her jawline. She winced at this but it was obvious that she was beginning to enjoy what the stranger was doing to her as her body began to lean back into him. She knew that enjoying the touch of a complete stranger was definitely inappropriate, yet she couldn't deny her pleasure to herself any longer. In her head, she could picture Adrian behind her, and in that moment, she believed it was indeed him.

The arms around her loosened a little, allowing her to breathe freely as he nestled his nose into her pigtails, deeply inhaling her scent. The fingers that clasped around her began kneading and tiny moans escaped her lips.

 _"Mmm... "_ a familiar low mumble came, prompting Mrs Lovett to gasp out and open her eyes...

 _'I-It can't b-be... '_ she told herself, managing to rotate to face the stranger now that he had released his death-grip around her. _'I-It can't be..._ 'im _! Why would 'e - ?'_

She closed her eyes again not wanting to see that it was the man she was thinking of - but she knew that her thoughts were already confirmed because she was completely engulfed by the scent that was Sweeney Todd. His arms tightened around her again now that he couldn't see her eyes.

 _'What are ya playin' at?!'_ she was thinking of yelling, squeezing her eyes shut further when she felt his breath on her face. _'I'm sick 'o these bleedin' games! It's been complete silence with ya f'weeks! And now 'is?! I'm menna' be meetin' Adrian for chris'sakes!'_

The barber studied her intently, the different emotions that passed over her features catching his interest - he smirked. She was confused. Just as he liked her to be. His vengeance could wait for a day, seeing as Mrs Lovett was far more fascinating. His black eyes gleamed when they settled on her, subliminally telling her to look at him.

His breaths puffed out in anticipation as the baker's mouth opened slightly, her eyes cracking open in order to look up at him through her lashes. That glorious simmering anger in her stare caused him to swallow - he'd been _longing_ for this.

She inhaled sharply and managed to reach her arms up, forcefully shoving him - he stumbled, taking a few steps back. His mouth fell open and his brows lifted in amused surprise, his arm quickly tearing away from her to rest on the grimy moss littered wall to the left of them. It seemed this action had saved him from falling over, and that only made his wily smirk spread wider.

Eleanor narrowed her brown eyes at him - how did he have the _nerve_ to show up there?! How did he know to do so? The fact Mr Todd was there made her frown deepen, thousands of possible answers danced around her skull. She needed to know the real reason that instant. She would push him to talk, she was through with being cautious and kind with her conversation.

 _"Where's Adrian?!"_ she questioned bluntly, but fairly calmly. Mr Todd presumed her quiet tone was so that no one could hear her from outside of the alley, the woman always seemed to take everything into account. Yet another thing he couldn't help admiring about her.

His eyes seemed to flicker as he stared at her - for once she wasn't returning his gaze, no matter how much she longed to... she didn't know what the _hell_ he was up to, after all.

 _"Mr Evans_ couldn't make it, I'm afraid. So it was only common courtesy for another gentleman to take his place, Mrs Lovett." he replied, his voice just above a whisper - this only added to how dangerous he appeared and she settled for boring her annoyed eyes at his chest. Gazing into his eyes would often sway her further, only aiding his beautifully formed words - for now she would not look back at him. She childishly crossed her arms over, not realising that doing so enhanced her bust even more.

She let out a deep sigh that sounded genuinely disappointed - but there was still a hint of show about this, like she was forcing herself to act let down - she didn't want to give him any notion of her actually being more excited about her day than she had previously been before. After all, having Mr Todd as company was far more _interesting_ than a man she regarded as a total stranger.

" 'Ow comes 'e ain't 'ere then?" she asked, pouting when his body language became stiff and solemn, like his daring behaviour and strange attempt at seduction had never even occurred. It appeared that even he was undecided about what on Earth he was doing - perhaps he was finally realising that he'd probably already lost his marbles. He gazed at her emptily, and she risked a glance upwards to look directly at him - and for once, she was thankful that his usual blank expression was present, she didn't think she could cope with the presumably intense look he'd worn beforehand.

She swore she saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he opened his mouth to speak, yet his eyes gave nothing away as they stared back at her.

"Mr Evans informed me that... " Inside Mr Todd was howling with laughter, he desperately wanted to unleash it all at that moment, but he knew he couldn't allow such a thing - this only spurred his amusement on further. "... he was having some _dreadful_ joint trouble. 'E even said that he'd come down with a sore throat. It's a ridiculous excuse if y'were to ask me."

Mrs Lovett's eyes bulged out of her eye sockets at his speech - she wasn't sure what it was about the barber's answer but it seemed too perfect, too expressive and too _long_ for him to be the composer of such an answer. It was like it had been...

_... rehearsed._

Eleanor knew there was something behind Mr Todd's words, but for the time being ignored the uncomfortable niggle at the back of her head.

" 'Ow did ya know where t'meet me then?" she pressed, narrowing her eyes like she was already accusing him of something where scrutiny was worthwhile.

" 'E rushed into my shop in the early hours to tell me in person." he replied, his eyes suddenly holding an emotion close to sincerity as he took his arm away from the wall to stand with his hands by his sides. "He'd been incredibly intoxicated when he'd sent his note to you."

His gaze burnt into her and her heart began to pound with both neglect and hope - even then she still wondered why the barber was there... he didn't care about her, he'd already made that fairly evident. Something within his stare changed slightly as she thoughtlessly gazed back at him - there was something devilish that danced within his irises which she was mesmerised by. He could tell that she was hanging onto his every word.

 _"Wot?!"_ she exclaimed in disbelief, her angry tone mismatching the dreamy look she wore. "Adrian seemed perfectly fine when _I_ last saw 'im! Not to mention perfectly _'andsome!"_

The woman was in denial.

The barber locked his jaw and his scowl fell in place, annoyed that she'd said something to purposely destroy his fun. He ignored the envy tangling around in his bloodstream - he needed to think straight. He wasn't sure if she was deliberately trying to push his buttons but he was finding it a hard time to keep his irritation hidden.

 _'Sincere.'_ he repeated to himself. _'You have to be sincere.'_

His internal attempt at focus had been pointless, because his mouth had already opened to snap out a retort, "Oh he was _not_ fine, Mrs Lovett. Certainly not _handsome_ \- _that_ is something, I _can_ assure you. After he'd dropped his _infernal_ request at your door, he'd rambled on about how you were an insufferable _witch_ of a woman - " Her hostile stance fell at this point, her eyes softening in sadness. " - how he had been _disgusted_ at himself to want to meet with a common floozy such as _you._ The very idea of flirting with you made him want to vomit. He had more pressing matters than any plans to court you. "

The words were harsh, but she knew everything he was saying was probably true. She had gotten her hopes up that morning she'd read Adrian's note... he'd appeared keen, yet when she recalled the state of the handwriting - how messy and erratic it had been... it should have been obvious that the man had not been in the correct state of mind. She knew Mr Todd was simply repeating what he'd heard from the man, but because he was the one saying it to her, it made her heart wrench and twist in different directions. Yet since he was currently there in the man's place, his presence caused her to hold back her tears of rejection.

 _Mr Todd -_ the man she truly, utterly, _desperately_ loved had turned up instead. He didn't appear to be making a big fuss about it though, not like she would have expected.

He seemed abnormally... _calm._

His eyes were filled with honesty as he looked back into hers, which were shimmering with angry disappoint and obvious shame. He felt no remorse for what he had uttered, yet something inside him wished that he did. The only thing he found he could do to fix the situation was to carry on further.

"Yet Mr Evans did not wish for you to wait here all by yourself." Sweeney continued in a less heated tone, irritation flooding him again when he saw brief relief in Eleanor's eyes.

"Oh," she breathed sadly, a little smile touching her lips. "at least 'e's _thoughtful_ at the very most."

That had torn it.

He couldn't have Mrs Lovett seeing some kind of _light_ in the late Adrian Evans - he'd have to scrap his planned answer and improvise... something that he often found difficult as he would usually be rather blunt.

He suddenly brought an open palm up to cover his face and looked down to his feet, like he was composing himself for what he was about to say. She watched him in depressed bewilderment as his skeleton looked like it was uncomfortable in its jacket of pallid skin - he was shuffling nervously and finally came to a standstill as he took his hand away from his face, his expression strange... he looked almost _regretful..._

 _"I can't... "_ he attempted to phrase, shaking his head as his eyebrows met in an melodramatic wince.

He couldn't believe Mrs Lovett was eating his lies up, let alone accepting his ridiculous acting - he was grateful for her being so oblivious to his play-acting or else he wouldn't have been able to figure out how to backtrack on all the lies he had dished out. He wanted her to see _him_ as the better man, after all (little did he know that he'd _always_ be her better man) - in a lot of ways, perhaps he truly was. In countless ways however, Sweeney Todd was probably the _worst_ man she could have wanted as a _friend_ , let alone as her possible _lover._

"I can no longer lie to you for his benefit." he finally spat out, his frown returning as the curtain of emotion finally seemed to drop. "Mrs Lovett, I decided to meet you here of my own accord. It is _heinous_ what that man has done to you."

She sighed with what Mr Todd thought was disappointment, but to any other person it would probably have sounded love-sick.

" 'E's stood me up. That ain't heinous Mr T, it's expected. It's 'appened plenty 'o times to me over the years." she said matter-of-factly, in the smallest voice he'd ever heard her use.

He opened his mouth to say something then actually considered her words. He knew how ruthless loneliness could be - he welcomed it, yet there she was in front of him, desperate for her solitude to end. How many times had she tried to find someone to keep her company, he wondered. How many times had she tried to find someone who cared?

He let out a breath and suddenly hated the fact they were engulfed by shadows. He clutched at each of her shoulders and pulled her towards the entrance of the lane, where there was more light.

When he let go of her, he held back the urge to sigh again because her entire being was literally _breathtaking._ He had only seen her from behind when he'd been following her, and only caught glimpses of her when they had been in the shadows. Now that the light lit her up, he was taken aback at how much effort she had put into her appearance. She wore her choice cut of dress, where the neckline was far too low but the material was a deep shade of burgundy - her jacket didn't match but he was too caught up in everything else to care. Something about her was different today, and it was something that he knew he liked.

He felt words brewing around his head and his mouth spewed them out carelessly, dark eyes exploring her from head to toe.

"I meant his attempt at trickery." he answered her finally, his tone matching his trailing eyes - he was slightly lost or distracted for the time being... that only made her eyes falter, and her heart flutter. "How could 'e fool you into thinkin' 'e was actually interested, only to leave you here - _here_ of all places - waiting for him, when he knew he'd never really intended to meet you?"

She suddenly boiled with rage as she listened to him, eyes darting furiously from left to right like she was working out what the barber was insinuating. It wasn't long until she did.

She crossed her arms over when she let out a doubtful "Ha!", his hungry eyes flicking up from her figure to meet her narrowed ones.

"Well, I could ask the same question _t'you,_ Mr T!" she near yelled, a few heads turning from the main road leading to the marketplace. The barber took his eyes from her for a moment to glare at the spectators and suddenly regretted wanting to stand in the light. He quietly growled as he took one of her arms and dragged her back down the back-street, pulling her further into the blackness. He continued to yank her arm further when she attempted to go in the other direction, anger obvious in his eyes as he looked back her.

"Y'know summin'?" she whispered highly, causing him to pause and claw into her shoulders - he turned to face her with a furious scowl, dragging her body towards him so that she faced him squarely in the eyes. The woman was fearless. "I 'ad a ridiculous dream where us two were gettin' all cosy in a cupboard. And ya know wot's funny Mr T? I can remember _everythin'_ that 'appened like it were just yesterday. I were gonna ask ya 'bout it, but I knew I were probably just dreamin'. I _musta_ been 'cause there's a fat chance of _that_ ever 'appenin' to _us two."_

His frown deepened, eyes narrowing to match hers. He looked hostile, but what she didn't know was that he was loving every syllable of whatever she was pouring out of her mouth.

For a second or two, he was speechless.

But it was only a couple of seconds before the spell she had him under quickly faded.

"Don't go bringin' that up _now,_ Mrs Lovett. _That_ had nothing to do with _this."_ he hissed, hands sliding up from her shoulders to the sides of her warm throat, like he was silently inferring something. "I was merely defending your honour - " She snorted at laugh at this. " - I was sparin' you being all alone. But if me _being here_ bothers you so much - "

He took his hands from her, eyes looking through her like she was made of glass as he made to push his way past her.

 _"No!"_ she shrieked highly, throwing herself into him - his only reaction was to catch her, his arms wrapping around her like she had been a ball that had been thrown at him. She buried her face in his trench coat, inhaling deeply. If she had been looking at Sweeney, she would have seen the most amusing look of confusion on his face - his eyes were wide, framed by his furrowed brow and his mouth was in the shape of a little 'o'.

Neither of them said anything.

Neither of them moved.

Her eyes closed as she brushed her face against his front, surrounding herself in him. His scent was all around her now - the sandalwood, the wood smoke, the hint of iron from all the blood he usually ended up being splattered with...

All she could do was breathe him in deeply, and it was obvious she was practically getting a high from doing so. His arms were still tightly grasping around her, his chin resting on top of her head. The fact he hadn't moved out of the unintended embrace caused his face to go blank, eyes glazing over in thought.

 _'Do I_ like _this?'_ he asked himself, flicking his eyes down to study the redness of her hair that tickled his jaw. _'She's my business partner for god's sake! What the hell am I doing? I have my vengeance to complete, I shouldn't be out here surprising her!'_

 _'Well she clearly must be more than a business partner now if you've_ killed _for her. The death of Adrian Evans certainly wasn't one in the name of_ Lucy, _was it?'_

He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, his arms crushing around the baker in frustration.

Eleanor gasped out and managed to break free, her intoxicated expression still present as she looked at him. She tried not to giggle at how his arms were held out in the hugging position, because by his features she could tell that he was back in his own world.

 _'It'll be that bloody old judge... '_ she thought to herself, rolling her eyes when his arms eventually fell back down to his sides.

Sweeney wasn't lost at all, he was trying to comprehend how he felt. He didn't know why he was becoming so attached to his accomplice - he had no need to be, but then again - he couldn't think like that when his concern was so obviously _there._ He couldn't just ignore it, nor could he just replace the fact he did care about her.

It seemed he would just have to accept how he felt.

He certainly _cared_ when anyone else was trying push into the picture. What he'd done to the despicable _Mr Evans_ the night prior had definitely made his feelings clearer. He wasn't going to allow some random admirer of Mrs Lovett's anywhere near her - the _secrets_ she could tell them - it was a disaster waiting to happen.

It was only to be _them._

Just him. Just her.

Just the barber, just the baker.

"Mr T?" Eleanor whispered, the hint of amusement on her features. "You there?"

He blinked a couple of times after the sound of her voice had graced his eardrums, his eyes instantly snapping to hers - she almost jumped out of her skin due to this, she'd never actually managed to break through to him like that before. He examined her, like he was trying to process something about her. There was something he'd discovered but couldn't quite put his finger on...

 _"Mrs Lovett..._ " he breathed out, guiding his hands up either side of her arms, only coming to a halt once he was cupping her chin - he tilted her face towards him so she was closer to him.

His eyes widened as he searched hers, astonished by the overpowering adoration displayed in them. How could she be that besotted with him? There was no logic to why she would be in love with a sick man like him - he couldn't understand her. He admitted that at times, it was extremely useful for her to have feelings for him - it had made her do things she wouldn't normally do... take making human meat pies as an example - but even that had its benefits for her.

She was always so optimistic.

Always so _hopeful._

She had probably been the purest of the pure back in the days when he had been Benjamin. He could spot something mischievous in her eyes now, something that had never been there before. Not that Benjamin had ever taken much notice of his landlady, of course.

But Sweeney was now aware that she was certainly going to be the one to be accompanying him when he finally got to hell. She was just as much of a sinner as he was. They were both aware of what was right and wrong, yet they had gone ahead with their morbid plan regardless. The very idea that she had discarded her morals to surround herself in bloody floorboards and flesh-stripped carcasses, made him pleasantly shiver and swallow.

Anything, for _him._

Lost in his exploration of her soul, he failed to retaliate when her arms hooked around his neck, pulling him down to her level so she no longer had to stand on her tip-toes. Their breathing accelerated as their noses brushed against the others.

The improper setting, their proximity, the way they locked onto each others gazes, the appropriately lingering silence - it was like the scene had happened before.

Yet it was Eleanor's words that slipped out to break the silence, Sweeney so hypnotised by her that he found that he was actually listening to her.

"You killed him, didn't you?" she whispered lowly, without an ounce of shock or anger... not like he had expected. She sounded and looked just as far away as he was. Her teeth grazed her lip in anticipation of his answer, but her actions had caught his attention - his eyes seemed to flash in the darkness once they watched her lip biting.

 _"Yes."_ he replied hoarsely, eyelids drooping as he lined up his face so that his lips were inches from hers. "You're not surprised?"

She shook her head, breathing out onto his lips. All sense of guilt vanished from within her - she should have been worried, _appalled_ at the fact Mr Todd had probably torn her hopeful admirer to pieces...

... but she wasn't.

She was _delighted._

It all made sense now - the way in which the barber had hurried down the stairs the night before, the way he was desperate to _'repay'_ the man for his kindness (kindness, she speculated, that had never even occurred)... The barber had been envious of her new companion. She couldn't possibly feel guilty about the death of the man, now she thought more about it - Adrian had gone along with the barber's lies, and accepted the offer of a free shave.

The man had accepted his fate there and then.

Finding the wait for Sweeney's lips to touch hers to be torturous, she decided to take action. From the glint in his eyes, she knew it was what he desired to happen too. She pushed the back of his neck and it forced his head forwards, their mouths colliding in a violent kiss. He took his hands away from her face, but only so he could push her to the wall - his arms ended up either side of her, like he was trapping her in place. He didn't have to do such a thing, Mrs Lovett wasn't thinking of going anywhere...

Yet that didn't stop her excitement.

Their mouths never ceased to bray with such force, even when they both struggled to get their coats off - they were both burning up, even in that December cold. Sweeney eventually managed to strip his off, tossing it behind him. He noticed that Eleanor was taking too long to remove her jacket and he growled into her mouth in annoyance, blindly taking a hand away from the wall to rip the sleeves from each of her arms. He clawed the infernal jacket from her and threw it to the ground, breaking away to scowl at her in irritation. Their chests heaved against each others as he pressed into her again, moans escaping them both - this served as a substitute to them talking, instead it seemed they were working things out physically.

Before things could heat up anymore, loud familiar voices rose to their attention from the lighter end of the back-street. They paused over each others lips, eyes fully open as they stared awkwardly at each other.

Sweeney was about to pull away but she wasn't going to allow him to leave her again, she had been a wreck last time. She dug into him, and from the way he shuddered out a breath, it was clear he also wanted to carry on what they were doing. He begrudgingly stepped away from her for a moment, devious eyes glued to hers. She had never been so quiet in her life as she watched him carefully collect their coats from the dirty cobbles... they certainly couldn't wear those now.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder once he returned to be right in front of her, but only to check how far the voices had travelled. He decided that they couldn't stay there, they'd have to move elsewhere. As much as he wanted to explore his desires for his accomplice, he knew he wanted the voyage to last for the longest time possible - he could never conclude anything from something quick. The feel of her was still so fresh to him.

He draped his coat around her shoulders (it was the cleaner of the two), which made her frown in confusion as it was such a gentlemanly action. He leaned in close, pressing his mouth to her ear.

"Come with me..." he said, voice low and barely over a breath of air.

She eagerly obliged, allowing him to take hold of her arm as he pulled her through into the even darker part of the passage, dragging her in the direction of the other side of the marketplace. She wondered what had gotten into him - why was he suddenly so focused on her? Was it just going to be a repeat of the cupboard?

For the time being, she pushed the idea to the back of her head and studied his determined demeanour.

The man clearly had something planned.

And she knew it wouldn't be long until she found out what that something was.


	10. Imperfection

The barber was remarkably _insistent._ And Eleanor had come to find that his unrelenting behaviour was something that made her heart pleasantly twinge.

When they had reached the opposite end of the seemingly endless passage, he pulled her in close in order to link arms with her - his free arm still had her soiled coat draped over it. He wasn't bothered that he was carrying something of hers - had he not had something more _pressing_ on his mind he probably would have just left it on the ground where it had previously been. He was quiet as they paused, the two of them studying the amount of people roaming the street before their eyes.

The sight was practically a hell-scape to Mr Todd, but he pushed his disgust to the back of his mind when he gazed back to the woman by his side. He felt her front brushing against his entwined arm as she turned to face him, looking up at him with unmistakable yearning. She was desperate to read his mind in that moment - he wasn't giving much away with his expression, other than his obvious interest in her.

Before she could open her mouth to ask him about his intentions, he took a step forward into the flow of people and she felt her feet following him.

When he realised that he was staring at her for longer than he'd wanted, he turned his head away to glare at the ground beneath his feet. Their pace was nonchalant and Mr Todd was finding it torturous, yet couldn't bring himself to walk amongst the public at a faster speed. He could tell Mrs Lovett was having a whale of a time - in his peripheral vision he spotted her smile broadening as she waved at someone on the other side of the road. He was annoyed that even now she was keeping up appearances... He hated how she was hooking onto his arm - she could at least _let go_ now... it made them look like _a couple_ for god's sake...

Then again he couldn't deny that perhaps they sort of... _were_ a couple now...

He shook away the thought, eyes rebelling against his better judgement. They drifted over to his left, subtly watching what she was doing - but it was mainly her chest rising and falling that caught his attention. It wasn't long before she realised what he was doing - internally she was thankful for him doing so, at least she knew his interest in her hadn't suddenly vanished like it had after a certain _cupboard incident._

It was clear that he was uncomfortable - he was stood upwards with a straight back and the longer his eyes stayed on her, the more his arm tensed around hers. She could sense the boiling desire eminating from him, and swallowed back her own urges - or she too, would soon become uncontrollable.

Finding their silence to be a suffering one, Eleanor decided it was best if she ended it.

"Where we even goin'?" she asked in her airy tone which was more prominent than usual - this caused him to avert his eyes from her, he hadn't realised that she'd been aware of what he'd been doing.

"Home." he replied shortly and gruffly, his mouth clamping shut after he'd said the word like he no longer wished to speak on the matter.

"Really? So _soon?_ 'S not a bad day, it'd be a shame t'waste it... " she hinted, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him, her longing glance not so easy to conceal. "I mean, wot's the bleedin' rush anyway. It's our day off! An' I'm sick of seein' the insides o' that god awful bake'ouse 'til god knows what 'our!"

He sent a venomous glare her way since she'd uttered such a thing in public, arm clenching around her tightly to yank her into his chest. Her eyes widened at his rough action, and she couldn't help shivering when she felt his lips against her ear. Somehow, the two of them kept on moving. down the street.

"You're not to mention that again, do I make myself clear?" he breathed dangerously, but his serious tone was unquestionably laced with hungry suggestion. "Another word about that bake'ouse - " His free hand had snaked its way up to the side of her neck, gripping into her skin until he could feel the blood pumping through the veins that were entwined underneath. " - and I'll choke you to death. Right here. Right _now."_

He seared his eyes into hers, expecting her to nod and play along like a good little accomplice... but she wasn't going to let him have his way at all.

"Ya wouldn't _dare."_ she teased, her desire-filled gaze matching the sly slither of a smirk on her lips.

He narrowed his eyes at her and tried to hide that he swallowed, her stubborn playfulness was making him feel violently inflamed. He attempted to snuff out his feeling of warmth by looking away from her - but her close proximity only forced him to swallow back his want for the time being. It was no use, everything he'd done to reduce his lust had failed.

There was only one solution. He'd have to fulfil his desire.

"Oh wouldn't I?" he replied, his stare on her again as his hand clenched around her throat tighter. _"Try me."_

Surprisingly, nobody had noticed their altercation yet - Sweeney was certainly glad of it.

"Well I were only sayin' that we didn't 'ave to go 'ome all in a rush!" she wheezed out, brows raising as her eyes begged him to stop - at least, he thought so. "No need to 'ave a bug up yer arse 'bout it!"

He scoffed and his eyes changed - it was obvious he was attempting to keep the careless coldness in place, but amusement and desire gleamed in his bottomless pools - his body's tension slackened.

"You never know who might be listenin'." he whispered when his hand on her neck caressed the tender skin there, and she swallowed. "We have to be careful, is all."

"I will be." she answered hoarsely, although he was sure she'd also thought that he'd been referring to something else, due to the way her breathing quickened. "An' I 'ave no doubt you'll be _more_ than careful, dear." Their eyes were both equally as dark as the other's as they looked at one another, both of them finding smirks reaching their lips. It was funny how something deadly serious had suddenly turned so... _suggestive._

He neared his face to hers, but not so close that it would cause a stir... it was just enough to graze his bottom lip against the top of her right cheek, which made Eleanor's lungs work ferociously with all the anticipation.

The man was driving her pleasantly bonkers.

"I assume that I'm understood?" he whispered against her skin, and she widened her eyes as she flinched to him, so she looked him square in the face. His features were handsomely teaming with intoxication - it was a wonder how they had both been able to continue striding forwards with Sweeney directing them... he seemed too focused on Mrs Lovett to know where he was going, let alone what he was _doing._

As soon as she opened her mouth to answer, she noticed a familiar junction in her peripheral vision - it had been enough to distract her. And that was all it had taken.

She knew where they were going.

They were indeed heading back to Fleet Street.

His arm tightened around hers again, and she obeyed his harsh action by returning her gaze to him.

And then his shifting, studying eyes managed to charm her once more... charm her with the answer she so desired to know. It was clear now, she knew what he craved. And she wanted that for them both too... but she knew it was a bad idea - she certainly wasn't taking any chances with her feelings again. She would have clutched at the chance of him making love to her a few weeks ago - but now with his devious track record, she would rather wait it out for the appropriate time.

 _'If the bloody man can wait f'the judge, 'e can bleedin' well wait for me!'_ she told herself firmly, like she was convincing _herself_ that her decision had been a sensible one.

"No Mr T," she whispered, although her eyes and her body language were proving her words to be misleading. "not now." It was impossible to conceal her true desire for him.

His smirk reappeared, like he had thought of her reply before he had even subconsciously answered her previous question.

"If not now, Mrs Lovett, _when?"_

"Oh c'mon now, dear." she said a bit louder, gently slapping his shoulder as she managed to force him to loosen his grip on her. "Don't be all impatient wi' me."

He glowered at her with such intense hunger that she had to look away from him for the moment - she focused on the cobbles below her feet, anything but _him..._

 _'Why? Why is the woman so obviously there?'_ Sweeney asked himself, unravelling his arm from hers to which she gaped back to him in confusion. _'Has she always been this way? I can't possibly concentrate on revenge with this..._ temptation _within me. God, look at her - '_ He swallowed, snaking the removed arm around her back and shoulder blades, firmly brushing his hand down to hold the small of her back. _' - there's no harm in trying, surely? If I'm no longer disgusted by her currently, perhaps I should delve deeper... I may not like Mrs Lovett in_ that _respect... there is a chance my repulsion may return...'_

It seemed he was still trying to find an explanation for his lust towards his accomplice, and he so far he had never found one. He instead, replaced his worry for the solution to such desire by insisting to himself that he _did_ want to sleep with her, but only to confirm that he _was_ indeed disgusted by her... After all, it wasn't as if he had actual _feelings_ for the woman...

The barber was deluded.

He was content with denying the obvious explanation.

In Mrs Lovett's apprehensive surprise and Mr Todd's tenacious attraction to her, the two of them failed to notice that they'd caught most of the public's eyes at this point. Not to mention Beadle Bamford's suspicious glare.

The man swaggered from the exterior of a seedy-looking corner shop, top hat jauntily placed on his head and cane tightly gripped in one slippery leather gloved hand. Most people parted around him, like his importance had earned him some extra street space. A smile reached his pouting lips, one he probably thought looked gratuitous but it ended up looking like it could cause chronic nausea. He trailed behind the barber and the baker, keeping a good few humans between them.

His muddy, bloodshot eyes were fixated on Mr Todd's coat draped over Mrs Lovett's shoulders - fixated on how he was grasping her lower back, how he was hovering his head as close as he could go without touching her. It was then that Beadle's suspicions began to grow.

Usually either Eleanor or Sweeney would have spotted someone following them by now, but due to them being rather _busy_ they had failed to notice the detestable Beadle stalking them. It was ridiculous that no one else had noticed the man blatantly staring at the two of them - then again, it wasn't anyone's place to say otherwise.

Impatient and vulgar as ever, the man could wait no longer.

He quickly approached the two of them, the most fraudulent pleasant smile upon his mouth. To say the man had a hell of a lot more money than most, he still looked grimy and shady with the clothes he wore.

"Pardon my intrusion, good sir, madam!" he announced, casually siding up to the right of the murderous barber - who instantaneously tore his glare away from his accomplice to settle on the wretched vermin next to him. "I do not believe I have ever seen anyone out of their coat in the peak of _December_ before."

Sweeney barely held back a growl.

The _nerve_ of this abomination. To think he had greeted them both with an apology, only to take a not so subtle dig at their public actions straight afterwards... The man (if Sweeney could bring himself to think of _it_ as that) was ludicrous.

And the demon barber wanted to _strangle_ the life out of him.

Mrs Lovett felt his hand on her back turn into a claw when he frowned down at the floor, and she winced but knew it wouldn't be long until he verbally expressed his true feelings - the way his body tensed made that perfectly clear. She decided it was best she answered, that way they could at least keep their facade going.

"Oh Mr Todd's not one for feelin' cold," she replied matter-of-factly, causing Beadle to tilt his head to the left so that he could face her. " 'e's ever so darin'. Unlike me y'see, 'ad the genorisity t'give me 'is coat, 'e did." On each syllable of the words she spoke, she felt Sweeney's grip relax and his eyes flicked in her direction to acknowledge her. She could tell he was thankful.

Beadle blinked repeatedly in confusion, mainly from what she'd uttered but also due to intrigue - the barber still had his hand upon the baker and hadn't thought to remove it. Beadle was a sucker for rumour spreading, and now that he had something to go on, he finally had something to gossip about.

"Yes, Beadle Bamford," Sweeney added, suddenly finding an approachable tone of voice - although Mrs Lovett could pick up on the strange undertone he had, which was probably due to the mixture of building blood-lust over the man in front of him, and the crucial lust for the distracting woman beside him. "There is no need for your concern. I am perfectly fine - " _'What does he think I am? Some kind of weakling?!'_ " - as is Mrs Lovett. I'm afraid that I'm still waiting on your visit to my establishment, you are most welcome, sir."

Eleanor couldn't help smirking at his persuasive tone, and she wriggled excitedly under his hand slightly. He didn't turn his attention to her, but it was clear he'd noticed her reaction because his fingers pressed against his coat, adding just enough pressure to reach through the material to her lower back, and he firmly kneaded her there.

"Oh, I'd be glad of your service, Mr Todd. You are the _finest_ of the fine in barbery, after all."

And _butchery..._

It was strange how the same words had come to both barber and baker's minds at that same moment - it seemed their thoughts were becoming more alike. Then again, that's what habitual murder and disturbing body disposal had done to them both...

"You shall certainly see me the following week, in light of the festivities I am in dire need of a clean cheek."

"Of course, sir. I _completely_ understand. The ladies will greatly appreciate it, I assure you." the barber replied unquestionably, feeling Mrs Lovett subtly pushing herself against his left side - it was in order to refrain him from reaching for that damned razor on his belt. It was a precaution to snap him out of any idea of a murderous frenzy the he so obviously wanted to carry out in that instant. Luckily he was still too damn aroused by her to explode into his blood thirst then and there.

The woman was a fantastic deterrent.

Beadle looked towards that very woman then, like he was seeking her agreement with what Mr Todd had said. And of course, without fail she gave a small smirk and nodded in reassurance. Her eyes wore a dark emotion and the barber turned towards her for a moment, and that was it - he was caught in her sinful beauty once more - thank god the man to his right couldn't see the blatant desire within his irises. He swallowed, taking his free hand down his front to subtly cover his crotch.

"I must congratulate you Mrs Lovett!" Beadle exclaimed, that strange emotion still present in her eyes as her stare stayed on the man talking to her - though it was clear _that_ particular gaze was there due to the barber, not due to the man she was looking at. "The report we received on your emporium had next to no faults. Habitually, there are queries, but you have certainly set the bar high for the _best_ pie maker in London." He'd said everything like he was surprised that she had even achieved something _positive_ \- and his tone sickened both Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett at that point.

_Hell, he needed his throat slit._

His eyes were glued to her in inappropriate interest, that repulsive half-smile smearing over his features.

With Mr Todd, such a disgusting glare did not go amiss. Benjamin had been naive to blatant filth, but Sweeney could spot it a mile away.

"Mrs Lovett?!" Sweeney blurted out, finding himself speaking before thinking, eyes still clouded with dark clouds as she flicked her own eyes to him.

 _"Hm?_ Yes dear?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He'd desperately wanted her attention on him, and away from the abhorrent toad beside him.

Instead of giving her a verbal answer, he sneaked the hand behind her down, in order to firmly knead down harder on her lower back - they were both sure that some of the passers by would have seen such an action. She bit her lip when she found that he didn't stop there. He slid his palm down and pushed into the top of her skirts - only coming to a stop once he'd pressed in enough to feel the faint shape of her buttocks underneath.

She suddenly got the picture entirely.

Her cheeks glowed a faded strawberry colour as she appeared to look taken aback. To their surprise, Beadle didn't seem too phased.

"O-Oh do pardon us sir, we 'ad some urgent business to attend to. I 'ope y'don't mind us rushin' off now!" she rambled out, Sweeney showing a glimpse of that devilish smirk. She couldn't _believe_ him - he was blatantly hinting that he _wanted_ her, when it was clear that Beadle Bamford (who was practically just as bad as the _judge)_ needed to be taken care of as soon as possible.

It seemed Mr Todd had changed his priorities for the time being.

* * *

"Not up there?" Eleanor asked hoarsely, eyes wandering from the barber shop stairs to settle over Sweeney's face in amazement when he was clearly headed towards her shop's door.

He stayed silent.

Now that they were out of the main trickle of Fleet Street-goers, he took the liberty of dropping behind her much to her bewilderment.

"Open the door." he ordered, bending down a fraction to quietly growl into her ear. She obeyed his demands and fished out her door key, which she had tucked between her breasts - to which he smirked.

She felt him press his torso against her back, even with his coat over her. His arms looped securely around her waist and she froze, holding the hand which held her key in mid-air, then eagerly leaned back into him. His lips brushed over her neck's skin, their eyes closing. She didn't know how much more teasing she could put up with.

They were both becoming restless.

His eyes shot open when he realised she wasn't unlocking the door as he'd instructed.

 _"Quickly."_ he snarled louder in annoyance against her skin, her hand flinging into action immediately. She felt nervousness hit her all in one. She didn't think this was the right time for what they were about to do. She wanted to, she _had_ to... just, not _now..._

She needed some more time. Everything was happening so fast. She was worried about how he'd be with her... and how he'd expect her to be. Rough or gentle? Loud or quiet? Fair or unfair?

As soon as the lock turned and the door was opened, Sweeney tightened his arms around her, then pushed forwards so that he could guide her inside the shop. She paused as he kicked the door shut behind them both, the windows shaking furiously with such a violent action.

 _"Keep goin'... the parlour... "_ he murmured, his tone still instructive as he began to place little kisses over her neck - she leaned her head back for him and little whimpers escaped her.

She kept on moving forwards, passing through the main shop to reach his desired location, the scuffle of their shoes on the floor strangely pleasing to their ears. He again kicked the door closed behind them, only this time he briefly took himself away from her, breathing heavily.

"Bleedin' freezin' in 'ere. Maybe I should light the fire?" she whispered, unsure of what to say with all her excitement and uncertain apprehension. She was never very good at so-called 'dirty-talk', and even more so now with the man she pined over.

He smirked and threw her coat that had been draped over his shoulder down onto the nearby armchair, ripping away his own trench coat from her shoulders. She immediately flew her arms around herself in a hug, shivering.

"Now, now, Mrs Lovett." he said lowly, the hint of amusement in his voice. "No need for that. I'm sure you'll be burnin' up soon enough... " Her cheeks flushed bright red and he chuckled breathlessly, returning to his previous position only this time his hands reached forwards to give her one firm stroke up from her abdomen to the tops of her breasts. He repeated and this time kissed her neck, something she was beginning to realise he seemed to be obsessed with.

Her excitement bubbled within her, but she still had something telling her to stop. She was getting a taste of what was to come - she didn't want them to get too far yet. She certainly wasn't going to allow him to just have his way with her... she'd make him earn it. No matter how much she wanted it, she would have to make sure he was patient for the right time...

Yet still, she gave into his touch and sunk back, allowing him to firmly nuzzle up from her neck to hover by her lips. She loved the feel of his skin on hers and she was too lost in the sensation to stop him from colliding his mouth with hers. Their eyes closed immediately, each of his hands allocated to each side of her ribs in order to rotate her so that she could orchestrate her reactions easier. It was like they were speaking physically, if one of them brayed their lips that little bit harder, the other would react twice as much. His hands stroked upwards again, coming to a halt either side of her neck. He pushed her away so that she took a few steps back, their mouths still kissing feverishly. She continued obeying him, stepping back until she felt something bump into the back of her skirts. Her jellied legs crumbled at the contact and she fell backwards, their lips parting as she landed on the worn surface of the sofa.

Gasps escaped Eleanor as her eyes opened, staring at Sweeney with fascination but she still had a hint of nervousness in those dark brown irises. He loomed over her, joining her by lowering himself over her spread out body, on all fours so that he wouldn't crush her. He burned his gaze into her and her eyes faltered at the insatiable hunger she saw there. Her amazement soon switched to concern as he was about to reintroduce his lips onto hers...

 _"Wait!"_ she whispered, causing him to freeze above her, frowning in discomfort - he hadn't expected her to speak. She paused, watching the desire die off in his eyes, and that faraway look returned as he stared back into her eyes. He didn't look disappointed, he just seemed confused...

And he _was_. Terribly confused. Why did he want her so much? Why was he not just replacing his lust for her, with something much more _worthwhile? 'Because it will always be there... I'll only be delaying the inevitable...'_ he answered to himself.

"Love?" she whispered airily, just loud enough for him to come to a halt right over her lips again. His gaze was averted from her, like he was afraid to look at her... or for her to look at him. Yet it was clear he was listening.

"We can't jus' keep goin' on like 'is. You know that, don't ya?" she spoke with the most disappointed expression on her face - inside her heart was shattering to pieces, for she didn't know if she would ever get as close to him ever again now that she'd uttered such a thing.

His black orbs flickered back up to her, and he seemed shocked by what she'd said. He'd expected her to go along with him, but in all fairness, he was too intrigued to care about his lust being put aside.

"Why ever not?" he breathed back firmly, brows framing his eyes to complete his look of interest.

" 'Cause it ain't fair on either o' us." she said quietly, brows raising as her eyes were shimmering with speckles of tears. "Last time you did 'is - you know wot 'appened! I am not bein' played again, I'm sick of ya messin' wi' me... "

His eyebrows raised in surprise, eyes wide.

"And what do you propose we do?" he said in his usual harsh tone, like he knew she had nothing better to suggest.

But of course, he always underestimated her.

"We..." she sighed, trailing off as a blush painted her cheeks - he'd raised one arm up next to her head to hold himself over her, and sank his body down to lightly brush over her. It was completely unintentional that it distracted her. But he picked up on it, and smirked.

She took in a deep breath, closing her eyes. Then pushed the air out, reopening her eyes to stare at him with honesty.

"We 'ave to decide... what we are, Mr T. And you 'ave t'decide whether ya want me or not."

He frowned at her, his smirk widening.

"Oh," he replied hoarsely, his free hand clutching at the side of her waist. "I want you Mrs Lovett. _That_ I am certain of."

She beamed a smile up at him, and internally she felt like she was doing somersaults.

"And as for what we are? I don't know. And I don't care. If there are already rumours about us 'avin' an affair, we may as well live up to them, 'ad we not?" he teased, eyes giving away his amusement, although she was adament that he was also deadly serious. "It's not like it'd make any difference, considerin' the public thought we were in the first place... "

She bit into her smile, his nose's skin nuzzling against the tip of her nose.

"S'pose so, Mr T..." she said huskily.

"And just so you know, pet," he added, voice practically a whisper. "I never intended to take advantage of your feelings... "

She rolled her eyes at him, and the amusement was clear as day in his eyes. She knew he was lying to her, and he was just teasingly poking fun at her - even if he was being a cheeky bastard, a smirk sneaked its way onto her lips.

" 'Ere's t'the start of our affair then... " she murmured in such a way like she was toasting to their apparent relationship - she darkly looked back at him, tempting him to kiss her again.

He sunk down her body further, mouth in place so he was a couple of inches from hers.

"To our _... affair..._ " he breathed, brushing his lips over hers... before long he gave her the smallest peck on her lips, shuffling away.

Eleanor wasn't having any of it.

 _"Oi!_ Wot you think ya doin'!" she near yelled, corners of her mouth curling into smile. "Get back 'ere!"

She took a hand up and yanked at the neck of his shirt, causing him to collapse back onto her, their mouths colliding in an incessant outbreak of kisses.

He wasn't like Mrs Lovett had imagined him to be with her. He wasn't perfect, and to be honest, that's what she preferred. He was rough, and unrelenting. He'd tease her, _play_ with her, instead of giving her exactly what she wanted. She preferred that too.

It was an imperfect beginning for their dark romance.

It was a time for acceptance, yet not total understanding.

It was a time to deal with obstacles whenever they presented themselves.

It was the time for two empty ghosts to finally...

_... feel alive._


	11. Unforeseen Relocation

The dark blanket of night consumed the sky. Fleet Street was it's usual rush of pedestrians of all ages, and it seemed a lot more colourful than normal. As Christmas was approaching, many businesses and practices along the street had already placed up decorative lanterns, festive wreaths and mistletoe.

Other shop owners however, had decided to decorate Fleet Street in _other_ ways.

Sweeney Todd, for example.

He was definitely making an effort this year...

... making an effort to drive the blade across the skin, to hook the edge of it in, in order to slice into the viscera... to tear away everything that was attached... the vermillion blood showered over him and the surrounding passage, peppering the brick walls with a festive crimson.

He wore a maddening glare, which matched his victorious grin...

Sweeney Todd had finally, _finally_ gotten rid of the council man. He had thought he'd better. The man had become a regular customer to Mrs Lovett's Emporium, _far_ too regular for Mr Todd's liking. The _regular_ had begun to notice things - no matter how minor his observations had been, he certainly had to be rid of before he put two and two together...

The barber wiped his razor clean on his previously white sleeve, only adding to the spray of deep red that coated his entire being. He cautiously returned his friend to the holster on his belt.

And there was the rat of a man before his bottomless, black eyes - he was sliding down the mossy wall, body stiff and rigid as his muddy green eyes bulged out of his well concealed skull. Grimy hands curled into claws, viscous liquid trickled, the sound of clothes scraping brick rustled as the undeniable sound of death wheezed out of him.

The man's heavy body slumped to the ground with a final dense _thud,_ thick wine-like blood pooling from his angry throat-wound. His head lolled downward, causing him to continue bleeding profusely.

His murderer just glared at him from his place in the shadows. He was partly relieved - the man would no longer be a bother, yet, it was clear that he now left himself in an unusual predicament. He'd never managed to kill anyone outside of his parlour before. It was always so safe in there, there was never room for error - he had developed a successful technique, and there was never any worry in terms of what was happening to the deceased _after_ said murder...

Yet there he was, glaring at the body of the deceased glutton, with enough mixture of disgust and concern on his face that it was a miracle that no one noticed the snide glint in his eye all the way from the main street.

It was like he was in some kind of ridiculous shock. He had no clue what to do with _it._ He couldn't just leave it there - it was in an alleyway, any old person could hop along in there and stumble across the fresh carcass of the prestigious council man, who had been named Sir Alexander. He then considered moving him. His scowl gracefully fell down to its rightful place as he leaned down and attempted to tug the bottom of the man's leg. He growled in frustration and yanked it with more force, the body merely sliding down to lay flat on the cobbles.

"For god's sake!" he snarled, throwing the man's leg away from him, standing back up straight, but only so that he could give the body's stomach a violent kick.

His hands reached up to snatch bundles of his inky hair as he turned away sharply, eyes darting to-and-fro in panicked thought.

 _'What are you going to do now?! It's gone._ Yes. _But you cannot allow yourself to be discovered through its disposal! You still have the judge to see to. Come on! Don't just stand there, you're clever! What are you to do with its body?'_

He paused, narrowing his eyes as he let go of his hair, oblivious to the tangled strands that tumbled down to complete his look of distress. His head raised up, so that his eyes met with the strip of sky visible between the two slate roofs above him. The night sky was darker than he'd seen it for a very long time - or perhaps that was just because he was running on adrenaline at this point. The expression of enlightenment struck him in an instant, eyes flicking back to his slouched victim.

_It was dark. Darker than he recalled it ever being._

He returned to the body, each of his hands designated a leg to wrap around. His spattered thumbs and fingers clutched around the man's shins, he then lunged forwards so that the body would drag behind him. Surprisingly, the body was easily moved, but the plump nonchalance of it caused Sweeney to grit his teeth in annoyance.

He decided that there was no way he could dispose of the body by himself. He'd have to introduce an accomplice to help him carry the bugger out of there and into the bakehouse.

Luckily, he already had one of those.

He continued to pull the body behind him, into the shadowed crevice where the alley slanted to an end. The vermin was less likely to be spotted that way, especially with how dark that area of the passage was. He propped the deceased up into a sitting position, the head dropping down so that the chin rested on the collarbone.

Sweeney bent down and let out a disgusted sniff. He used a finger and thumb to close the man's eyelids, so then at least if any passer-by was to see him from a distance, he would at least look asleep.

He stood up straight and turned around, his entire demeanour anything but calm. He made his way out of the alleyway, each stride more determined than the next. Once he reached the end - where the passage met the rush of Fleet Street - he sunk back into the darkness, out of view.

This part was going to be more difficult than he'd anticipated.

* * *

It was nearing nine at night and Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium was fairly quiet compared to the habitual surge of victims, pies and consumers.

Due to this, Mrs Lovett had time to spare some time behind her counter, floured rolling pin firmly within her small hands. She rolled out a block of pastry, locks of her auburn hair falling in front of her face. She was thankful that all of her current customers were outside for the time being, she could finally hum to herself in peace.

As her hands were busy at work, pushing the rolling pin to-and-fro, and her humming echoed around her vacant shop, she was completely oblivious to the figure that had silently emerged from the direction of her parlour.

They quietly crept behind her, only coming to a halt once they were half a metre from the back of her.

She was still lost in her own world. Her own world that consisted of sea, sun, sand... and Sweeney Todd. A smile reached her lips and she bit the corner of her mouth to stop a rush of hopeful giggles escaping her.

_"Mrs Lovett?"_

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, a delectable shiver rippling through her entire being. Clearly, the sound of his silky tone of voice was one she thought that she was merely imagining, and she continued to hum away to herself, rolling the pastry flatter and flatter.

The barber frowned at her, really not amused with her ignoring him, especially when he was truly there for her to help him shift a dead body. He knew that he was pushed for time already, he needed her to stop daydreaming and focus on him.

 _"Mrs Lovett!"_ he near yelled, yet still she did not turn to face him, only carried on with whatever delusional fantasy was playing out in her mind.

He growled and used both of his hands to snatch her by the nape of her neck, twirling her around to face him.

"For god's sake woman! Are you _deaf?!"_

The rolling pin slipped from her floury hands and smashed down onto the hard ground, rolling across the floor. The uneasy silence between the two of them was interrupted as the echo bounced around the room.

Her brown eyes were wide as they stared back at him with so much fear and surprise, that her jaw almost dropped open. What on Earth was he doing _there_ at this hour? He should have been upstairs, killing away! He had been unmistakably irked ever since their bubbling _'affair'_ had officially started (not that they had gotten as far as Sweeney would have liked, they had not given into their lust just yet). His usual death toll had probably been multiplied by a double digit figure by now, it had been clear to her that she'd gotten to him.

_He was frustrated._

He was frustratedwith not being able to have his accomplice. In more ways than one.

And he was even more frustrated now that she was standing in his way of moving a damned dead body.

 _"Mr T!_ Ya gave me a right fright ya did!" she exclaimed, throwing a flour-dusted palm over her chest. "Wot brings ya down 'ere?"

He stared back at her emptily, but there was enough flickering in those black eyes to tell her that for whatever reason, he wasn't just there to _see_ her.

That would have been too _nice_ of him. Too considerate. Too gentleman-like.

He opened his mouth, briefly (and worriedly) looking at something out of the window behind her, then rested his gaze back on her.

"What are they?" he asked quietly, but firmly, gesturing to something behind her.

She frowned in confusion and looked over her shoulder, eyes settling on colourful lanterns that were lit and glimmering, all the way from the businesses on the opposite side of Fleet Street.

"They're decorations, love." she answered shortly, abiding by him when he tugged her forearm so that she'd face him again - this was something he often did now, and she loved the fact he wanted her to look at him when she spoke. "It is nearin' Christmas, Mr T. 'Ave ya forgotten?"

He sneered, the look of cold-hearted misery on his face adamant as he challenged her.

"What's the point of Christmas? It's just another excuse to be two-faced to our fellow _man._ At least we are deceitful _all year round,_ Mrs Lovett. There shall be no allocated time-frame to when we are to stop doing so, either."

Her heart sped up now that he was referring to the two of them as a _"we"_ and that was enough for her to know she was safe to let out a little chuckle at his bleak outlook.

"Oh come on Mr T! Don't say 'at! It's a cosy time 'o year. And don't forget we get a god awful lot 'o days off!" she cried out, causing him to wince at the jovial tone of her voice.

"There shall be no rest for the wicked, Mrs Lovett." he answered lowly, the excited emotion on her face being replaced with one of solemn sincerity. "We can rest when we're dead."

Her eyes faltered as he ducked his head closer, his eyes burning into her. He looked like he was torn in two - one half of him was ignited with frustration - erratic nervousness, like he was in some kind of rush. The other half was intoxicated with her again, his hands finding their place around the base of her waist, his proximity causing her to struggle to breathe. Her lust for him was engulfing her again, and she knew that if this want for him kept recurring and was forever unfulfilled, then there would be a time when the two of them would become untamable.

"Why are y'down 'ere?" she whispered, taking a step back in a hope that he would get the message... but her actions only encouraged him further.

He was silent as he applied more pressure to her waist, forcing her to fall back. Luckily, she had the counter behind her and one of his hands had tore away from her side to hold her in place... she had been close to dealing with a nasty collision there.

A smirk played onto his mouth, his hand on her waist and his other spread over the small of her back.

"Why, Mrs Lovett, I'm 'ere to _'elp_ you, of course." he breathed, the mock honesty passing across his features.

Even though everything was so intense - the feeling of his hands through the material of her dress, the nearness of his mouth on hers, the way his black locks had fallen to the sides of his face to make him look even more dangerous...

She saw through his façade.

" 'elp?!" she snapped, frowning at him with flushed cheeks. "I don't need no 'elp! We got barely any meat f'the pies, so there's not much t'be done t'be honest!"

His front disappeared and he gave her the darkest, gloomiest look he had done in a while.

"You're refusin' my assistance?"

"Yes."

He backed away from her, harshly retracting his hands from her so that she could stand up straight. She winced and rubbed her side where his hand had been, her actions attracting his hooded eyes.

"Why 'ave y'not been upstairs, Mr T?" she asked quietly, her tone sounding tired, like she was a mother that had been fed up with the behaviour of a young child. "I can tell wi' these things ya know..."

Of course she could. She knew how many bodies to expect in her bakehouse per night. _Per hour..._

He stood motionless, still scowling down at her side that he'd been clawing into just moments ago. She thought he was lost again, and she rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips.

"Wot _has_ gotten into ya?"

His eyes lifted to rest on her face, and then his head followed. His expression was empty, but it was obvious that something still simmered within him. Not just hatred. Not just bloodlust.

He opened his mouth to reply, but he was quickly cut off when her eyes widened at him and she let out a gasp.

 _"Mr T!_ You're covered in blood! Bleedin' 'ell look at ya!" she exclaimed, turning slightly to grab a dishcloth that had been located on the side of her counter.

He frowned - he'd made sure to change his shirt after his previous murder, was there something he'd forgotten?

"I am?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously - it was hardly time to be joking, why couldn't he just ask her to help him? He regretted going along with such a charade.

"C'mere!" she said highly with a sigh, rolling her eyes. "Tip yer 'ead back."

He stepped closer and did as she said, closing his eyes when she stood up on her tiptoes to reach the base of his throat. She firmly kneaded the cloth into him, ridding him of the speckles of blood that still clung to his skin.

"This is why ya 'ere, dear?" she whispered, letting out a deep breath when his arms linked around her waist and pulled her closer.

"Yes."

"We 'ave a problem?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence when she took the damp cloth away from him, but only so she could rub it over the skin beneath his chin.

"You oughta be more careful, Mr T." she said sincerely, eyes studying his face when she should have been focusing on the task that she had been set. "Any old customer mighta spotted 'is!"

"I think we 'ave bigger problems than my _attire,_ Mrs Lovett."

She paused over his skin, and her actions made his eyes open. His hands stroked up the sides of her body, then down her arms to catch her by the wrists. He forced her arms downwards, the cloth falling onto the floor out of her grip. He dropped his head down to its usual place, staring directly back at her, a smirk on his lips.

It was strange to think that the counsellor's dead body could be discovered at any moment, and there he was, enjoying the look of shock in Eleanor Lovett's eyes. He should have been worrying. But he found he was enjoying the situation more than he would have anticipated.

"Lord in 'eaven!" she blurted out, the flash of concern in her eyes causing his amusement to grow further. "Wot 'ave ya done?"

His amusement soon dropped and he yanked her wrists upwards so that she fell forwards into him, her chin thrusting up into the air and angling so that her lips almost touched his. They still stared intensely at one another, neither one of them able to tear away.

"You are to close up this instant, do you understand?" he whispered fiercely, squeezing her wrists again when she didn't reply fast enough.

She nodded frantically, and he let go of her, narrowing his eyes at her when she rubbed her wrists and immediately commenced closing her business. She was under his scrutiny as she pottered away from him, wearing hurried concern as she neared the door.

The barber watched his accomplice through the windows, she was collecting all of the soiled plates and tumblers. He never took his eyes from her, even when his legs carried him to her front door, where he turned the sign to read: _closed._ He paused there, hearing her bustle back inside from the courtyard door.

She eyed him in concern as she dumped a large pile of dirty bowls and plates into the basin behind her counter. And she turned back around, and fully aware that he was watching, adjusted the neckline of her dress before she returned to the courtyard.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to observe her shooing away her customers - a lot of them looked extremely annoyed with her, but without a doubt, they would be back the next day seeing as nowhere else sold pies containing the choice cut of _human..._

Eleanor returned to the shop moments later, kicking away the block of wood that had held the door back in order for it to slam shut.

She let out an exasperated huff, marching towards where he was stood in the centre of the place.

"Wot is it then?" she retorted hastily, pouting at his look of apparent seriousness.

He motioned her closer, and he shifted to face the windows next to the main door, peering through the panes of glass above the net curtains. She crossed her arms over, standing directly next to him and she almost fainted when he linked his arm with hers, beckoning her even closer.

"The counsellor." he began hoarsely, the sound of his voice causing her to drop her stubborn attitude and replace it with unexpected shock. "He's over there. Couldn't entice 'im upstairs. He sensed somethin', I 'ad to get rid of 'im while I 'ad the chance."

A pause fell over the two of them and they skimmed their eyes over the public who passed by, and every now and again their eyes would fill with concern whenever anyone neared the location of the passage in which the deceased council man was left.

" 'Ow long's 'e been there?" she questioned, tilting her head which caused her to unintentionally lean her head on the side of his shoulder.

"Too long."

He unlinked his arm with her to instead lay a palm flat against her lower back, curling the rest of his arm around her. It wasn't long until she realised that he was guiding her to the right.

_Towards the door._

" 'ang on! Wot are we doin'?!"

"Well he can't very well _sit there_ for all of this evenin', can he?!" he scolded, tightening his arm around her waist. "I couldn't move the damn thing all by myself."

He immediately regretted what he'd just admitted.

"Ya mean ya tried t' _move_ 'im?!" she replied with amusement, holding back her giggles. "Bleedin' 'ell Mr T! 'E's a massive great lump 'e is! Ya gonna need more than us two!"

He paused with his free hand over the door handle, clenching his jaw as he spun his torso round to face her with an intimidating glare.

"Well, Mrs Lovett, unfortunately all we have is the two of us. So we will make do, whether you like it or not."

She scoffed and stumbled as he opened the door and dragged her with him. The door slammed shut behind them and he pressed his hand against her back even harder, kneading into her with his sharp fingers. She wore a worried expression as they diagonally cut through the stream of people, heading towards the alley that was adjacent to Mrs Lovett's Emporium.

As they reached the clearing of shadows, Mrs Lovett decided to glue her feet to the ground, widening her eyes at the impending darkness of the passage before them.

"We can't do 'is now." she whispered, and he stopped when he noticed she wasn't moving along with him. "There's too many people, someone's bound t'notice!"

Sweeney glowered at her and wrenched her arm towards him, driving her forwards in order to continue into the alley. Once they had a suffice amount of distance between them and the bustle of Fleet Street, not to mention a suffice amount of darkness enveloping them, he then pushed her to the wall, seizing her wrists with his palms to pin them to the squalid bricks behind her.

Dread-drenched anticipation danced in her alert eyes as she returned his unrelenting gaze.

"We wait here." he grumbled, eyes flashing at her in the shadows - his face was still so close to her, making her unable to control her squirms. "It's like you _always_ say, pet. Good things come t'those who wait..."

Her eyelashes fluttered as his face neared her again, lips hovering ever so near to hers.

The reason they were there seemed to float out of their minds for a second. He let out a frustrated breath of air before he leaned forwards, their mouths catching in a slow, pressured kiss. A pleasured whimper escaped Eleanor's throat and his grip on her wrists tightened. He could have given in then and there, but he broke away, both of them panting heavily.

"Mr T... I really do think someone's gonna notice some'in!" she cried out, concern returning to her features.

He shook his head, smirking.

"Nobody would want to be involved in _someone else's_ business, Eleanor. What kind of human bein' would they be?" he replied in a mocking tone, amusement dancing in his black orbs when she gawped back at him.

He took his hands away from her, smirk still in place as he turned from her to set off down the passage towards the dead body.

The baker took a moment to catch her breath, eyes blinking several times - apparently she thought that there was a chance that what was occurring was actually another daydream...

She slowly stumbled in the direction of Mr Todd, swallowing once she could see the faint outline of the intoxicating man at the end of the passage. As she neared, she could tell he was crouched down - but her attention on him soon fled to the bloody bricked walls... and the smeared trail of scarlet stains beneath her feet.

It was unusually messier than his parlour was... then again, it wasn't like the bodies did a dance before they flew down the chute...

"Come here." Sweeney ordered, gesturing for her to come closer.

She swallowed, finding that the best thing was to focus on him... after all, she didn't mind disposing of a gruesome mess if it was an activity that included _him..._

Even then, when she bent down next to him, obeying his order to clutch hold of the man's shin - she didn't take her eyes from him. He was oblivious to her longing eyes since he was firmly focused on the task before him.

Stray locks of hair still hung by the sides of his face, the paleness of his skin and that white streak prominent even in the pitch black. She was completely lost in his features, but still she managed to do as he'd asked.

The two of them pulled the man's body backwards, and this time it moved with ease, much to Sweeney's appreciation.

They yanked the man's legs in unison for a good couple of seconds, then paused for a moment's rest before they continued to relocate the man. They would repeat their formula until they reached the exit - it was likely that they'd have to carry the bugger once they reached Fleet Street, or else there would be a convenient blood trail towards Mrs Lovett's bakehouse.

They soon grew bored of focusing on the task, and so, after a few minutes of body dragging, they found they couldn't resist looking at one another. Another pull was initiated to the man's legs, and Sweeney studied his accomplice with curious eyes - black eyes trailing down from her well defined facial features, down to the crystalline skin of her torso... He widened his eyes when she tilted her head back so he could view more of her...

And he'd thought that she'd been _oblivious_ to his gaze.

He had to hand it to her, she was good at hiding things that she knew.

He smirked as they paused for a breather, watching her turn to him slightly, parting her lips as she looked through her eyelashes at him.

He couldn't tear away now, and he dropped the man's leg, launching forwards to place his mouth over hers once again. His hands cupped around her chin as she leaned forwards into him.

If the two of them hadn't been so lost in each other, they would have noticed the faint tinkling of something hitting the slate tiles from one of the rooves above them...

He let out a deep groan as she forced him to quicken his mouth's pace. The dead man's other leg slipped from her fingers as he lifted her up slightly, but only so her legs could tightly wrap around him as he pressed her into the wall. The lust had been cooked up between them again, it seemed that even during the most macabre of situations, their connection overrided everything...

The _things_ they wanted to do to each other...

One of Sweeney's hands slammed the wall next to her head, but only so he could hold them up to resume their activity. His other hand's fingers grabbed handfuls of her dark red hair, her hands responding by clutching into the sides of his ribs.

They also failed to notice the silhouette that appeared to peer down to the alley below, spotting the two lovers in the act...

It was the outline of a small person, but they weren't small enough to be a child. They had tangled shoulder length hair, a stovepipe hat sat atop their head. The colours of their eyes were impossible to make out, although the light appeared to bounce off of them wherever they looked.

As they looked upon the scene, they didn't seem to react. They stayed still, observing the scene playing out before their eyes.

"Mhmm - MMMr T..." Eleanor murmured, parting his lips for a moment for air. "Doncha think we'd better move 'im?"

He smirked, forehead resting against hers.

 _"You_ were the one who said we should _wait_ , pet." he breathed, teasing her by pressing a chaste kiss beneath her bottom lip.

"I-I dunno, it musta quietened down now - "

"How can you be certain?"

"Takin' a chance'll never 'urt anyone. I mean, 'e's bloody dead fer 'eaven's sakes!"

He snorted a laugh at this, and so did she.

The hat-wearing figure let out a breathy laugh too and the couple looked up in panic, directly towards the source of the sound...

But it was too late.

The apparition had gone.

The two of them frowned in concern, Eleanor's arms stroking up Sweeney's body to link around his neck as she gazed back to him.

"Per'aps we'd better get on an move that bugger, love?" she whispered calmly, and luckily that managed to snap him away from the rooftop.

For once, he agreed with her.

They needed to move him.

_And fast._


	12. Unconventional Bonding

The couple were doing remarkably well. It was a surprise how efficiently they had moved the corpse - ever so _quickly,_ ever so _quietly._ Even though it was fairly busy, no one had so much as batted an eyelid in their direction.

It was obvious the two had done this before. Or at least, that's what their keen observer thought, peering over the roof's ledge, brim of the stove-pipe hat acting as a veranda to cast a shadow over their face. Their pale, slender hands clutched to the crumbling tiles, physically gripped to the scene occurring over the cobbles below. Their knuckles were chapped and red raw. However the cold didn't seem to bother them as they were too amazed by what they were seeing.

The barber and the baker had reached half way across Fleet Street - although it seemed that the body's arm now had a mind of its own as it kept falling down to swing loosely by the man's side... and it was proving difficult for Sweeney not to express his annoyance, but he gritted his teeth and merely folded the arm back into its place. Over. And over. And over.

Mrs Lovett on the other hand, was completely at ease. Unlike Mr Todd, she moved dead bodies on a daily basis and sometimes much heavier ones than the blighter they were transporting now. The fact she had help made it easier though, and not quite as stressful on her bones as it usually was.

 _'Not to mention, I 'ave an excuse to only look at_ 'im... _'_ she thought to herself, corner of her mouth curling up into a smirk.

She could have gotten used to this.

It wasn't long until they had finally reached her shop.

The watcher was still present as Eleanor backed into her shop's door, shuffling in backwards as Sweeney followed, still gripping tightly to the body. Before he entered the door, he paused.

And took a brief glance to the left.

And then to the right.

"Everythin' alright, love?" Mrs Lovett asked, her voice full of concern yet somehow still so airy like what the two were doing was a habitual activity.

_It really wasn't._

"Yes." he replied emptily, turning his head to stare back at her - his eyes revealed his frustration, though she imagined it wasn't just because of the deceased victim in their arms. "I'm fine. Now come on, let's get 'im to the bake'ouse."

He wasn't _fine._ He was everything but _fine._

She continued heading backwards slowly, but almost tripped when she felt him impatiently pushing the body towards her - forcing her to speed up her actions. She skidded back into the middle of her shop, almost hitting the counter.

She really wished that she was the one who could see where they were going - she didn't really trust him to raise his voice if she was about to walk back-first into something dangerous.

She loved him. _Adored_ him. _Lusted_ after him.

But she didn't _trust_ him.

He would always be devious.

Then again, that is perhaps why they were the perfect match.

Because so was she.

The two of them wrestled with each end of the dead man as they attempted to shove him through the door to the parlour. Eventually they managed to push him through, although the two of them had wasted a lot of energy doing so, and were both breathing excessively hard.

They carried the carcass over to the doors of the bake-house...

The two of them stood there for a moment, still holding onto the body as they caught each other's gazes, hints of smirks forming over their lips.

It would have been awkward if anyone else had been there to observe the scene.

The dead man was seemingly an unknowing third-wheel, not that he was _interrupting_ their _date_ too much... in fact it seemed that the 'relocation of the deceased' activity had brought them both together slightly. Not that either of them would have admitted this.

_They didn't need to._

"Drop it." he ordered in a whisper - she was sure that he had probably intended to growl out such a thing, but it appeared that he couldn't bring himself to do so.

The man hit the floor with a dense noise of what sounded like meat smacking wood.

_Meat was going to be the only thing he would end up being._

No funeral for him.

He'd be embalmed in a brown, thick, stew-like sauce. And then laid to rest in his coffin, which would be wonderfully crafted out of cardboard-like pastry. If he was very lucky he might have a few herbs mixed into his flesh.

Mrs Lovett unthreaded the catch over the cupboard doors in order to open each one outwards - the creaking of the action caught Mr Todd's attention and he narrowed his eyes at her bent form in interest.

As she stood back up and turned to face him, she jumped when she realised that he was completely focused on her. She blinked a few times, clearing her throat as she patted the front of her dress down. Her habit made him smirk and his eyes darkened.

"M-Mr T?" she stuttered, confusion plastered clumsily over her features.

"Mm?" he hummed in reply. He wanted to indicate he was listening but felt like answering with minimal words was the best thing to do - that way he didn't really give away how he was feeling.

"Why ya still 'ere?" she continued in a quiet tone, those chocolate eyes emitting so much hope that it forced him to swallow.

"Well," he began in monotone, masking his true interest with a blank expression. _"I_ made this ridiculous mistake, Mrs Lovett. I don't think it proper for you to dispose of it seeing as it was killed elsewhere."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a breath of air as her hands automatically placed themselves on her hips. What did it matter _where_ the man was killed? What else would they do with the body? Either way, Sir Alexander was going into an edible, crusty grave.

"I've been a fool." he pressed on, frown suddenly giving away his emotions. "A _distracted_ fool, Mrs Lovett. I took far too many risks today, and for what? For this rat to stop breathing?"

Her eyes widened and she gasped, "Mr T! Don't say ya 'avin' second thoughts! You never 'ave second thoughts!" This was completely unlike him.

His frown deepened and his black eyes looked up at her, head lolling down slightly.

"No, I am not. He had to die. I just... didn't think of the consequences. I put everything at risk. Not only myself, I was endangering you as we - "

Both of their eyes widened at what he'd said, his mouth snapping shut when he realised what he'd just voiced. She bit her lip to stop herself from bursting out in happy giggles, after all, it was obvious that he hadn't meant to confess his concerns to her. She stepped over the body, so that she was right in front of him, hypnotised by his black eyes.

His voice was suddenly so quiet.

"What I _meant_ to say was that I - "

She pressed a half-gloved index finger to his lips, her lashes fluttering as she carefully stroked down to the bottom of his chin.

"Don't say anythin'. Let's jus' move 'is bugger, love." she whispered.

He nodded, lightly batting her hand away from him with his own in order to move past her. He crouched beside the dead body, gripping onto the side that Eleanor had been holding prior. He'd sensed that she hadn't been comfortable with going backwards... and he was getting tired of carrying the great lump...

She went to clutch the opposite end of the body but Sweeney had already started dragging it away from her, towards the descending blackness of the bake-house. He grunted as he managed to yank the man onto the second step. He left him there for the time being, squinting back to the light of the parlour - where Eleanor's shadowed figure was stood.

"Do you 'ave any matches?" he asked, raising his voice enough so that it echoed around the enclosed walls of the stairway.

" 'Course! 'Ere y'are, dear." she replied happily, smiling as she took a box of matches from the depths of her cleavage. She saw his eyes gleaming at her, even in the darkness in which he was enveloped in.

His footsteps echoed perfectly as he took a few steps into the light, watching her slide the match box open. She was about to draw one out but he beat her to it, snatching his hand forward to take a random match. She gaped at him as he struck the metal grate that was on the side of the box. The stick had lit immediately and he held it up to the side of her face, his eyes studying over her illuminated features for a moment.

"I'll move it." he breathed, the reflection of the sparkling flame in his hole-like eyes causing her to swallow and shiver. "Don't you worry."

He darted away from her, turning towards the location of the body - which was still sprawled out in the most painful looking position imaginable on the top few stairs.

"Do y'think that this will last the week?" he asked in genuine curiosity as he held the match out in front of him in order to light up the next couple of steps.

She placed her hands on her hips again, watching him strip off his waistcoat - it was a wonder how he hadn't set anything alight with his way of doing so... he wasn't exactly _careful._

He obnoxiously threw the piece of clothing her way and she caught it just in time before it hit her in the face. She frowned at him in annoyance but he carried on with his actions, crouching down by the body's feet. She continued to scoff back a cheeky retort - she knew it would probably cause him to have a change of opinion about heading down to the bake-house with her if she did so...

"Well? What do you think, Mrs Lovett?"

But she couldn't resist messing with him.

"Oh _no,_ Mr T!" she exclaimed loudly, eyes widening when he turned his top-half around to face her, flickering flame in front of his eyes. "I know 'e's a _big_ bugger but that ain't nearly enough! We're gonna need _lots_ more than 'at! We're approachin' Christmas Eve for chris'sakes! We're gonna sell outta pies like 'otcakes!"

His brows raised in surprise.

"In that case, pet... the more dead vermin, the better." he replied lowly, swivelling back around so that he could pull one of the motionless legs into a straighter position.

She watched in shock as he stood up in a hunched manner, head looking down towards the dead man's face... and then swung his right leg back to give the skull a shattering kick - there was a splitting sound and then the body started to move, swiftly sliding down each of the grimy stairs. Each step came with a new crunch or thwack as the body travelled faster and faster, gaining rapid speed...

Until it finally came to a stop after rolling across a few of the slabs that completed the bake-house floor.

Sweeney's smirk seemed to flash across his face as he slowly followed the body down the stairs, arm bearing the match outstretched. Mrs Lovett kept a bit of distance between them, she was afraid that if she got close to him again she would get lost in him completely. And now was certainly not the time to be distracted.

As she reached the bottom step, he'd already began dragging the carcass again, the scratching of the tailored clothes over the cobbles causing the two of them to wince.

He continued tugging the body until he neared the dreaded meat grinder. He took his hands away from the man's shoulders, causing the lifeless skull of the man to slam down onto the ground loudly. Sweeney let out an exasperated sigh and stood upright, turning his attention to his accomplice. As she neared, it was clear from the look in his eyes that he seriously wanted to leave there and then.

Body disposal was _her_ thing.

Not his.

Yet his legs were glued firmly in place - his body was telling him to stay put, his heart pounding along to the sound of his rushing adrenaline as she stopped in front of him.

He frowned as she thoughtlessly dropped his waistcoat onto the slimy floor and sunk her body down slowly, eyes still peering up at him as she spoke, "We take 'is clothes off first."

"What?" he whispered incoherently with his eyes wide, causing her to roll her eyes as she began to push off the rather dapper coat the man had been wearing. "Why?"

"Oh come on now, Mr T!" she breathed out in a loud, amused gasp, her magnetic brown eyes attracting his cold, dense stare. "We can't leave 'em on, can we? Or else woven fabric'll 'ave t'be added as one 'o the ingredients! An' I'm not sure that me customers are gonna wanna eat that!"

His accusing expression eased and he nodded, feeling rather like a spare part once she was setting to undressing the man's top-half.

"What 'appens with those, then? You can't well sell 'em. What is it you do with them?" he asked, taken aback when she paused and rudely slung the dead man's jacket and waistcoat towards him.

He let out a breathy snort of irritation as he quickly managed to react and catch them - it seemed she was playing some sort of game with him, not that he had thought anything wrong about throwing his own waistcoat at her earlier.

Now he was certainly contemplating his previous actions. Perhaps even regretting them.

"Add 'em t'the wood." she instructed lightly (but he could tell she was extremely serious), continuing with removing the rest of the corpse's attire. He frowned at her but saw that she gestured towards the oven and he nodded in a soldier-like manner before he silently set to his task.

She glanced his way for a moment as she shuffled off the bottoms from the body, biting her lip when Mr Todd bent over to place the unwanted clothes in the fire - there was something about how his trousers fitted so snugly to his legs that made her weak at the knees - luckily she happened to be half on the floor already, so she'd not given herself away.

She quickly tore her gaze away as he slammed the oven door closed, firmly setting the latch. He swivelled himself around to face her, frowning with an empty expression as he watched her awkwardly struggling to take off the man's trousers. He swallowed back his disgust and marched towards her, his determined footsteps causing her to back away slightly.

He'd envisioned her being more chatty whilst she was grinding up his victims. The fact she was currently quiet, made him wonder whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

He crouched down next to her, taking hold of a hem on one of the legs, Mrs Lovett taking the other. They shimmied them and yanked in unison, more focused on stealing glances at one another to care how well they were progressing. To make matters worse, their hands kept on brushing against each others, and that only made their lust even more intense.

Intense, but manageable.

"Where do you start?" he asked hoarsely, as they gave one last pull each and finally the trousers were prised off - to which they let out breaths of relief... then grimaces, for the body was now completely stripped.

"Torso first. Limbs second, and then anythin' else we can manage to salvage..." she trailed off, their eyes meeting again, his face closer than she'd recalled it being before. He smirked at her words, then brought a callous hand upwards to cup her cheek - her expression was almost in a state of panic.

"The organs first, then?" he breathed, grasping her chin to tilt her head back in order for her to look up to him, her skin glowing from the fine strips of light breaking through the cracks in the brickwork here and there. "I s'pose that makes perfect sense."

He leaned forwards, grazing his lips over hers, their eyelids drooping with intoxication.

"And the bones?" he whispered, eyes dancing with desire, and genuine curiosity.

"I grind 'em down when I've lots of 'em. They make out to be a good substitute f'talcum powder..." she replied lowly, pausing as he almost kissed her again.

"How _practical..."_ he complimented, bringing up his other hand to caress the side of her face. "No wonder you were more than 'appy to give me some for _free._ I could tell there was somethin' different about it."

"Don't bother ya, does it?"

"Of course not. I don't use it, I only use the one you gave me for customers."

She let out a wheeze of amusement and he grinned evilly back at her, their mouths almost completing the kiss.

"You're a bleedin' devil, Mr T..."

"Oh, but then so are you, Mrs Lovett," he teased. "so are you."

When she leaned in even more, he slid back and turned away from her, standing up all in a hunch. She had the look of pure rejection painted over her face, but this was something he missed since he was too busy getting on with things...

On the stone-cut step on which the grinder was situated, there was a selection of tools all neatly arranged in a little line, the metal from each one glinting from the dim light.

He squinted in thought as his hand hovered over each one, but naturally he decided to pick the nastiest looking one. He snatched up a grey-coloured curved hook with haste, rusted edge causing his eyes to study the blade with enthusiasm.

Mrs Lovett looked up at him as he turned to her, his fingers curling around the grip at the base of the hook. She sat back on her legs, falling back on her skirts as she observed him in interest. She hadn't expected him to get on and hack up the body, she had been fully expecting him to watch her do his dirty work.

Sweeney crouched down next to her, deciding that he didn't want to kneel down in case anything red leaked into his pinstriped trousers. He had the most disconcerted expression on his face as he poised the end of the hook over the body's skin between the centre of the ribs down to the abdomen. His awkwardness for the situation soon vanished as he had that maddening glint in his eyes that she knew all too well...

" 'Ang on!" she exclaimed highly, one of her hands closing over his which was still coiled around the bladed instrument. Her other hand pressed to the side of the corpse's stomach that was farthest away from them. It was mainly to hold the body still, but also to keep herself steady - she felt quite faint, although she wasn't sure whether that was because of the situation, the lack of air, or the _company_...

It was probably the latter.

He frowned in confusion at her, but then she looked back at him and nodded, and he quickly averted his gaze, focusing on the body.

He hovered the hook over the bottom of the man's ribs and finally forcefully sunk the tip of the blade into the ghoulish skin. Blood trickled from the wound, spraying over both Sweeney and Eleanor's hand - the warmth of her palm around his hand caused him to concentrate his choice cut even more...

Soon he sliced downwards, towards the hand of his accomplice which was placed near the belly, but ensured that his hand remained steady in order to stop before reaching her fingers. The man's innards were now revealed and it wasn't exactly the prettiest of sights, but the two of them didn't seem too phased by it all...

Although the two of them didn't speak as they got on with ripping the grey skin and muscle from the rest of skeleton, they would exchange glances now and then. He was in complete awe with her, and how efficient she was. He had been magnificent with the hook and later on, the cleaver - but it was _her_ that really shined with her bare hands, pulling the meatiest skin from bone.

It wasn't long before body parts piled up - first the inner organs, then the flesh of the arms, the legs, then the odd toe, or finger...

Sweeney had only recently changed into a clean shirt, but now it was completely soaked in wine-like blood.

And for once, Mrs Lovett was also completely covered. Then again, he had rarely seen her after chopping up bodies.

If he was honest he found the sight of her to be incredibly attractive.

The two were silent as he handed her each fleshy body part from his place on the ground, and she was stood, taking the meat from him to throw it into the funnel - where it would hit the basin with a thud, awaiting to be transformed into delicious sausage-like meat.

Once all the meat had been loaded up, she began to turn the crank with little difficulty. Clearly because she'd been doing it for quite a while now, her muscles had become accustomed to doing such a thing. Nevertheless, he was certainly surprised at how strong she was considering that she was quite a bit smaller than he was.

_Always so underestimated._

"I can do that." Sweeney said in monotone, but his eyes were studying the way that her body was moving, backwards, forwards, backwards, forwards...

She smiled as she continued to grind away, " 'S alright, love. I don't mind. You go an' wash ya'self up, you look a right fright! Might wanna ditch that shirt an' all. There's no way I'm gonna be able t'get _them_ stains out!"

She panted out breaths of air as he gave her an unsure look.

"You're sure?"

" 'O course! I'll be with ya in two shakes..." she puffed out, not once taking her eyes away from him, not showing a flicker of fatigue - once again demonstrating her multi-tasking skills. "That is... if ya want me t'company ya..."

"Of course." he replied shortly, causing her to pause mid-way through her action out of surprise. With that, he gave her a nod of his head and he turned on his heels, already making his way towards the bake-house stairs - at this point Eleanor's eyes widened.

That shirt really _was_ going to end up being useless.

Even the back was completely splattered with different shades of deep red, so much so that it looked almost black.

His footsteps echoed as he quickly ascended up the stairs, to which she continued cranking, her bones suddenly aching now that she'd paused.

Despite the situation, she found a smile gracing her lips as the bake-house doors creaked and the faint sound of his tuneful whistling told her that he'd finally exited - he'd even left the doors open for her. Perhaps he _was_ getting more considerate towards her?

It was another twenty minutes before Eleanor emerged from the the murky black to pass through the homey doors of her bake-house. Her dark red hair was even more matted from the clots of blood, her dress tinted a faint burgundy from spatter and her arms littered with dry speckles of the crimson liquid.

Mrs Lovett didn't know it, but she looked just as frightful as Mr Todd did.

Deciding that it was probably best to get the wash basin (there's no way she could possibly hang around her shop without someone noticing her appearance and she felt rather grimy too), she carefully shut the doors, only just remembering to lock the latch which she pulled over to perch between the two door handles.

Cautiously, she stepped through the parlour door and into her main shop...

She gasped aloud, freezing when she saw that Mr Todd had not gone upstairs to change his shirt at all...

In fact, he seemed quite content as he was sitting in one of the shop's booths, hand steadily clasped around a glass of homemade gin...

_... half-naked._

She hadn't expected this! She felt ridiculous just stood glaring at him, but she couldn't help the furious rush of blood to her cheeks, only accompanying the red of her hair, and the red of the blood which decorated her from head to toe.

She needed mental preparation for such a sight.

She had to take a deep breath in - _quickly_ \- in an attempt to not to faint.

His appearance was a lot to take in, especially because he appeared to be utterly oblivious that she was gawking at him... then again, who knew with that man? He was a cold enough person to know _very_ well how flustered and distracted him being sat there would make her feel. And he was definitely cold enough to not even give her the faintest glimmer that he was truly aware of her being there.

She blinked a few times, and saw that his bloodied shirt was strewn over the floor in her peripheral vision. Deciding that she couldn't stay quiet much longer - his toned muscles made her want to emit a love-sick squeak but she swallowed the sound back and kept her cool - she cleared her throat, twirling a lock of her hair like she had been busy doing such a thing before she announced her presence.

He briefly glanced over at her, bringing the brim of the glass up to his lips, those dark eyes were her indication that he already knew she'd been there... he'd known how weak he'd made her knees.

 _"Mr T?"_ she addressed, taking a few steps forward, and then some faster ones once he took his attention away from her to bore his eyes out into the darkness through the window.

_How long had they been down there? It was pitch black outside._

"Mrs Lovett." he replied emptily as she came to a stop by his left side, her eyes darting around nervously - the poor woman didn't know _where_ to look.

As she opened her mouth to say something, the previously quiet sound of the street outside suddenly grew in volume.

_Heavy approaching footsteps. The dense clack of well made shoes reverberating over the cobbles..._

The two of them froze and glared in worry at one another.

Despite the sign on the front door reading _'closed',_ the stranger seemed intent on entering the establishment by any means. The door had been left unlocked to the stranger's delight and Eleanor mentally scorched herself for forgetting to lock it...

Then again, the two of them had been in a _hurry._

The glass panels rattled as the door swung open, the sound of the man entering causing them both to darken their gazes, the two of them smirking at one another.

There they were, smiling at one another even at the possible brink of their discovery. Smiling, when Sweeney was half-naked, and Eleanor was caked in vermillion patches of blood. Smiling, when it was unlikely that they would come up with a good enough excuse for both of their attires... and another for why Mr Todd was in Mrs Lovett's shop at such a time at night.

The murderer and accomplice didn't take their eyes off of each other, even as the bell sounded out as the door slammed shut.

Their worry was non-existent.

It had been replaced with exciting, adrenaline-fuelled anticipation.

The person who had entered was extremely silent. There was no way that they had missed the scene before their eyes... then again, they could only see Eleanor from her side, and it was rather dimly lit in there, perhaps they couldn't tell she was covered in blood?

"What are you both doing _here_ at this _ungodly_ hour?!"

There was only one person with that smug, pompous tone of voice.

It was Beadle Bamford.

How could they possibly get out of this situation?


	13. Misgiving Part I

_The person who had entered was extremely silent. There was no way that they had missed the scene before their eyes... then again, they could only see Eleanor from her side, and it was rather dimly lit in there, perhaps they couldn't tell she was covered in blood?_

_"What are you both doing here at this_ ungodly _hour?!"_

_There was only one person with that smug, pompous tone of voice._

_It was Beadle Bamford._

_How could they possibly get out of this situation?_

"I could ask _you_ the same question, Beadle Bamford. Mrs Lovett and I closed our businesses _half an hour_ ago." Sweeney snapped, already giving the sad excuse for a man a seething glare from his place at the booth - apparently he was oblivious to the fact his top-half was still very much on show. "Why on Earth are you here after business hours?"

That gin had gone to his head rather quickly. His annoyance was spilling out of him without a moment's consideration.

Sensing the hatred emanating from him, Mrs Lovett cleared her throat and stood in front of him - there was no way that she was going to allow him to get fired up and ready to kill again. She'd had quite enough of body disposal on this particular evening, and Beadle Bamford wasn't exactly someone you could just get rid of without caring about the consequences.

A man like him would _always_ have associates to come and look for him.

"What Mr T menna say is 'at you gave us a right fright, ya did! 'Ow'd ya even get in 'ere?" she recovered, completely forgetting that she was covered in blood spatter... something _far_ worse than the subtle flash of murderous intent present in Mr Todd's eyes. Yet she had acted quickly to shield him, so she was going to have to cope with her decision.

Beadle gasped melodramatically, hands tightening into fists around his mahogany sword-cane. It was clear now, that he'd just set eyes on the filthy baker...

"M-Mrs Lovett!" he wheezed out, mucky eyes no longer hooded by his lids as alarm set in. "W-What the devil? You appear to look like you've bathed in bodily liquids! I _demand_ an explanation, Mrs Lovett!"

Eleanor froze, mouth agape as her brown eyes shimmered, completely glazed over with thought. Mr Todd managed to poke his head around her to shoot Beadle a poisonous glare, yet he placed a hand onto her side of her abdomen, squeezing firmly.

His actions caused her to flinch and a hollow breath escaped her.

It was clear that he wanted _her_ to do the talking. Silently he'd told her that he couldn't kill another person - he certainly had it in him to flick open that razor once more, but it was obvious, in the brief clutch of her side, that he didn't want her joining him for the ride.

"W-Well..." she stuttered out, blinking away the beacons of excuses that had lit up her mind. His grip on her hadn't left - only _tightened._

The man stood rigid as he gawped at them both, unbelieving what laid before his eyes. Naturally he'd presumed the worst - which in actual fact, was exactly what it was:

_Murder._

"Lie. _Quickly."_ Sweeney ordered in a fierce whisper, swiftly tucking his head behind the small of her back, resting it against her for the time being - yet another thing that pleasantly distracted her.

He finally was expectant of her. He knew how good at coming up with on-the-spot excuses she was...

"We was preparin' the meat f'tomorrow, sir." she replied rather easily, and he actually found a smirk touching his lips - how wonderfully _calm_ she was, starting off with an element of truth would ensure that Beadle never suspected that she was being dishonest. "Do 'scuse our state'a dress, pig's blood does tend t'go all over the bleedin' place! Was downright _pleased_ when I 'ad to finish off 'alf of our butcher's work for 'im!"

Sweeney snorted with amusement at her cover, not to mention the subtle dig at him and she pushed back into him slightly and he frowned. Had that been an attempt to shut him up? She surely wasn't playing games now that another person was present?

The barber somehow couldn't wipe his funny look of amusement from his face.

"I see! I apologise for presuming the worst. I am used to doing so, after all!" the foolish man exclaimed, masking his disgust and fear with a stained handkerchief, which he held to his mouth and nose. "I suppose it was rather rude of me intruding on lov- _business_ _partners_ after working hours. I must also apologise for that, profusely."

Sweeney's fingers dug into her fiercer, and he clenched his teeth as she seemed to ease under his touch.

"I must say however," the busy-body added, taking a step towards them both, pressing the cloth to cover his nose and mouth over dramatically. "that you both do look rather _frightful._ I will return at a more appropriate time seeing as you are both amidst an _activity."_

His voice was muffled from the cloth over his face, but that didn't stop the true repulsion that was evident in his murky, bloodshot eyes.

The man swiftly turned on his heels and made for the door in a hurried manner, pausing once his hand clawed around the door handle...

"Oh, and one more thing I must add, before I depart, if you do not mind?" he asked nonchalantly, strangely acting less worried than he had previously been in front of Mrs Lovett (the two of them gave him the most malicious looks they could muster, they _really_ wanted him to leave at this point). "You wouldn't have happened to have seen a man named Sir Alexander Cavendish around these parts recently, would you?"

The two of them did not drop their looks of subtle resentment, and just shook their heads.

Beadle nodded towards them both, taking the handkerchief from his mouth for a second.

"Then I bid you good evening." he said in a bitter tone, turning back to the glass panels of the door. He flung it open hurriedly and left it to slam as he departed.

The man's etiquette was all over the place.

"Thank god for 'at." Mrs Lovett breathed out, feeling the grip from the barber subside. "Once I saw 'im 'thought we was done for!"

She didn't turn to face Mr Todd, she still gazed worriedly to the door where the dreadful man had just exited.

"Don't know what that _speck_ of _dirt_ thinks he's playin' at, comin' in here at such an hour." Sweeney bellowed lowly, sounding irked - although it didn't seem that it was just due to Beadle's presence. He was glaring at Eleanor's back, dark eyes searing into her, like that would force her to turn around to look at him.

" 'Eaven knows, Mr T. At least 'e knows 'e's not welcome back 'ere this evenin'. The bugger actually believed me!" she exclaimed, letting out a high chuckle.

"Of course he did. He had no reason not to."

She had a small smile on her lips, feeling warmth come over her - she'd clearly met his expectations. The smile stayed there even as she kept her stare towards the door, like she was expecting the law to burst inside the place at any moment, but she couldn't stop the feeling of love rushing through her veins.

"Will you look at me, woman?" he asked firmly, his head leaning from her so that he could snake his hands around her waist. "No one is gonna come in, alright? What is it that's got y'so worried?"

She ignored his words and made her way to the door, eyes still wide with concern as she dropped the latch, double checking that it was indeed now _locked._

She was stalling. She didn't want to turn towards him and lay her eyes on him - on his _half-naked_ form... She let out an airy sigh and closed her eyes, finding that her body had already spun around to face him. Her heart was controlling her body, her mind was finally taking a breather.

Her eyes were still firmly shut when she heard his approaching footsteps - the usual rustle of his shirt as he walked was not present and that made her blood pump that little bit faster. She swallowed as she felt the warmth radiating from him now that he was closer, the brief scent of gin mixed with his smell, causing her to take a deep breath in.

She cracked her eyes open and sure enough, he was there in front of her, rough hands snatching hold of either side of her face in a cupping motion.

Their breathing was almost an intimate metronome as he closed the space between their faces, their noses brushing over each others as their mouths finally collided in one slow, firm kiss. Due to the unexpected length of the kiss, Eleanor was starting to feel light headed and leaned forwards. Sweeney sensed her falling into him and his hands slid downwards to link around her waist once more, the skin of her cleavage brushing against his bare torso.

As their kiss became more heated, Sweeney's hold on her became precarious as his hands started to wander over her body - she moaned into his mouth, wriggling due to the sensations he was causing. Their want was bubbling again, and soon it began to escalate when the two of them realised that they were only making themselves messier - the blood that coated Mrs Lovett's form was rubbing off onto Mr Todd, and that only urged the two of them to carry on attacking one another feverishly. He broke away briefly to pant out breaths of air, and she did too, looking up at him through devious eyes - his response was those dark eyes of his gleaming with all the sins under the sun, and a sly smirk that caused her to bite her lip.

"We better get ourselves washed up, 'adn't we?" she whispered, eyes fluttering as he came closer to nuzzle her nose with the tip of his. He hummed out an _"mmm"_ and pressed a small kiss to her cheek before letting her out of his grasp.

Their gazes dropped to the floor.

Her eyes changed as soon as he'd left her, and so did his.

Hers were somewhat irritated.

His were devoid of anything.

He was _empty._

It was like nothing had even occurred between them. When it was _definitely_ more than _something._ Yet it was clear, the two of them were truly uncertain about the consequences after this night. Even the concerns floating between them subconsciously stopped them both from getting lost in each other, or at least, for the moment.

The dark eyes of the barber almost seemed disappointed as she turned from him and quietly left him stood there, dried burgundy patches smeared all around his mouth, gauze-like patches littered his chest too from where she'd pressed into him. He looked down to the blood, and the twitch of a smirk emerged just as quickly as it disappeared.

It was a brief reminder of his desire.

_His desire that had yet to be fulfilled._

As Mrs Lovett bustled about around the counter, muttering to herself as she searched for something, Mr Todd had returned to the booth where his shot glass was located.

He poured out the vile, transparent liquid into the glass, and then set the bottle down, bringing the glass up to his lips.

"There it is!" she gasped out joyously from beneath the counter, where apparently, she had a world of treasures stored. "Knew it were in 'ere somewhere!"

He sipped his drink, and darted his eyes towards her, not daring to give her his full attention. He stayed silent as she dragged the heavy basin from the depths of her counter, grunting from the effort she was using. She pulled it through to the parlour, glancing up at the barber every now and then.

She wasn't expecting his help... she just wanted him to look at her. Like he'd wanted her to do just minutes earlier.

Yet he didn't, he just sat there, sipping away at his pain-numbing drink.

 _'After everythin' that's 'appened t'night it should be_ me _'avin a drink an' a sit down! 'E's got some bleedin' cheek!'_ she thought to herself, scoffing as she scowled at him from the doorway of the parlour, giving the wash basin one last tug which caused it to noisily slide into the centre of the room.

She went about her preparation duties, trundling all about her residence in order to find towels, a bucket and a few scrubbing brushes. She was somewhat jumpy going about this alone - after Beadle's presence she still couldn't shake her worries away.

Meanwhile, Mr Todd was still sat at the booth, slowly drinking shot after shot, briefly acknowledging her if she passed him.

This was really starting to get on her nerves.

When she tipped the boiling water from the bucket into the wash basin, and then draped the towels near to the fire to ensure they'd be snug once they were both getting dried, she was hoping that he'd at least redeem himself by entering the parlour with a thankful nod...

But there was no sign of him.

Covered in blood, and adamantly miffed, Mrs Lovett marched back into her shop, narrowing her eyes as she came to a stop beside him, hands on her hips. She cleared her throat, shaking her head when he tipped another shot to the back of his throat with little effort.

She opened her mouth to shout the odds, but he beat her to it.

"I should go first." he said, with a touch of slur, but it was clear by the way he held himself that he was completely in control. "I'm not quite as mucky as you are."

Her jaw dropped open at him. She couldn't _believe_ him. Yes, he had a point. But when he'd been sat there being utterly _idle,_ he had no right to get all warm and relaxed before _her!_ He had to be winding her up, _surely?_

" 'Ow bloody _dare - "_

Before she could finish, he'd stood up and lightly pushed her out of his way, heading towards the parlour. She set her jaw and glared at the door he'd just entered, then noticed his discarded bloodied shirt on the shop floor. She let out a frustrated wheeze and rushed towards it, scooping it up as she made her way after him.

She stormed into the parlour, ignoring him entirely and huffed as she slumped over-dramatically onto her settee. He looked over at her expectantly from his place beside the vat of steaming water. She wore a sulk as she studied his bloodied shirt that was still entwined around her hands, completely oblivious to the fact that Mr Todd wanted his privacy.

Sweeney let out a sigh of annoyance and walked back out of the room much to Eleanor's surprise - she was even more surprised when he returned with the bottle of gin, his empty glass and a fresh one for her. She had a scowl on her face and looked down at his shirt, not giving the barber an ounce of her attention as he set down the objects on the side-table next to her.

He filled both glasses to the brim, not uttering a word.

It wasn't long before the tumbler appeared in front of her eyes, blocking her view of the shirt she held on her lap. She rolled her eyes, and snatched it out of his grasp, holding it defensively to her chest.

She lifted her head up to gaze at him, and he blankly acknowledged her with a nod. He paced over to the side of the bathtub again, this time frowning when she still hadn't budged. This time, because she was fully focused on him, she cottoned on that he wanted privacy fairly quickly...

 _'Well, if 'e's been inconsiderate t'me then there's no 'arm me_ sittin' 'ere, _is there?'_ she thought to herself, and she ended up giving Sweeney the most unintentionally seductive smirk that she hadn't even realised had reached her lips.

"I ain't gonna look, love." she breathed out in a high, innocent tone - though her body language told another story. "Y'got nothin' to worry about. Don't mind me."

She closed her eyes and leaned back into the cushioned settee, swivelling to extend out her legs... or rather _one_ leg, the other hung suggestively over the edge of the cushion beneath her. She was certainly playing it cool, and because of her tempting demeanour, he couldn't possibly protest as he was secretly incredibly attracted to her.

Her bones sunk further into the soft furnishings as her head lolled backwards, the heat from the fire suddenly hitting her. She probably had blood all over by now, but she was too relaxed, too _content_ to care...

And even more content when she heard the sound of a belt being threaded, then a buckle being opened...

She'd gotten _her_ way for once.

The belt soon stopped jangling and there were some more rustles, the anticipation of such sounds causing her to let out a heavy, shuddered breath.

She promised herself that she wasn't going to open her eyes.

She reminded herself that she was annoyed with him, with what had happened on this night...

She wasn't to let him charm her into giving in.

At least, not _yet._

She heard the sound of him entering the water, and she actually had to bite her lip to stop herself from emitting an excited gasp at the thought of him _completely_ exposed...

She held back a little moan as she heard him cupping water over himself - she imagined the sight of the steaming droplets coating that taught chest that she had only glanced at moments before... _god,_ she wanted to open her eyes, to see him there smirking back at her... _toying_ with her heartstrings.

Deciding that she needed to steady herself, she blindly brought the rim of the glass to her lips and sipped the liquid, wincing a little as it burned down her throat. The gin managed to clear her head a little and she realised that it was probably best if she busied herself, to at least hinder the vivid, lustful daydreams invading her train of thought.

She cracked open her eyes, placing the tumbler next to his on the end table, and reluctantly moved from her place on the settee, looking downwards to the slightly burnt rug in order to stop herself ogling him...

She successfully made it to the bookcase and let out a sigh of relief, but not one that was discreet enough to go amiss.

The splashing of the water settled down as she took out a book, which was completely riddled with dust and cobwebs. She blew the layer of neglect away from the cover, brushing the webs off with her finger and thumb.

She hesitated before turning to sit back down - she could feel that his eyes were pinned to her.

 _Studying_ her. _Scrutinising_ her.

She could sense that the barber was about to attempt conversation, and immediately set to returning to the sofa, pausing before she sat down.

"Mr T?" she asked quietly, but not so innocently - it was obvious she wanted something.

"Mm?" he replied, neck on show as his head lolled back, over the edge of the basin, arms clutching the sides to ensure he wasn't going to drown. His ebony hair was damp and sodden against his skull, sticking to the skin of his forehead.

"You ain't got ya razors down 'ere, 'ave ya?" she stated, more than asked.

"No." he answered shortly, but it was possible that his tone was only due to his confusion... or _vulnerability._

"Then I'd better go and fetch 'em for ya, 'adn't I?" she said, rolling her eyes as she turned and passed by him, shielding the side of her face.

Finally, she'd have a rest from the heat of the situation...

... For now.


	14. Misgiving Part II and Bickering

"Then I'd better go and fetch 'em for ya, 'adn't I?" Eleanor said, rolling her eyes as she turned and passed by him, shielding the side of her face. She carried on through to her shop, but only to turn right to a smaller, narrower staircase that would have been easily missed to any visitor.

She bustled her way up the staircase, careful not to brush against the walls or there would be permanent blood stains etched into the wallpaper. Eventually she reached the landing in which there were two doors - one directly in front of her which led to the claustrophobic bedroom of Mr Todd, the other was to her left and led to the tonsorial parlour. As much as she wanted to snoop around her tenant's boudoir, she was still quite irritated with him and decided to get what she came for.

She opened the door and headed inside, a sharp gasp escaping her once a cold draft hit the skin of her face, neck and cleavage.

" 'Ow does that man stand this cold?" she asked herself, hugging her arms around herself.

She'd wanted to take her time and think to herself to at least stop worrying, but she couldn't stay up there any longer due to the freezing temperature. She rushed over his floorboards - which were strangely impeccable, _not a drop of blood in sight_ \- and rifled through his vanity for everything that he'd need. It wasn't long until she had a bundle of items in her arms - his precious box of razors, various brushes and lathers, and finally, his preferred cologne.

She huffed, her breath visibly white as she did so.

"Well, at least 'e can't send me back up 'ere fer anythin' else!" she exclaimed with a proud smirk, turning on her heels carefully as she didn't want to drop anything - especially a certain box filled with his _friends..._

Finding that her body was growing accustomed to the cold, she headed over to his window, which overlooked the cobbles outside... and she risked a glance over to the alleyway where Mr Todd's last victim had met their end.

Mrs Lovett's breath hitched and her eyes widened at the sight of a shadowy silhouette in a crouched position - due to the dim gaslight near to the passageway it was easy to make out shapes, but not good enough for her to distinguish their features at all. They were small, although they appeared to look taller due to the stove-pipe hat atop their head. From what she could make out, the person was nimble and focused on the cobbles... they were scrubbing them furiously with the head of a brush, and after watching for a good few seconds, Eleanor was finding breathing to be a great difficulty.

_Someone had seen the mess._

The law would be onto them in a heartbeat.

Not wishing to watch in horror any longer, she gripped her arms tightly around Mr Todd's shaving equipment and she shoulder barged into the door she'd previously entered, galloping down the staircase, blundering her way back to him.

 _"Mr T!"_ she blurted out as she pushed through the parlour door, sucking in handfuls of air violently. "Mr T, someone knows about - !"

As soon as she entered her parlour, the panic evaporated from her mind as her line of sight happened to land on Mr Todd, who was fully at ease in the steaming water.

She froze and her wide eyes turned saucer-like when she realised that he was still completely stark-naked and she received an unimpressed glare from him in return. Luckily, the end of the wash basin blocked everything below his stomach - so _that_ part of him was left to her imagination once again. He held the emotionless expression, however, he didn't appear to be uncomfortable about her watching him, in fact she swore that he was holding back that devilish smirk of his - his eyes were the tell-tale, that's how she knew.

The black eyes that were undeniably humored behind the masquerade of desolation that he always insisted on plastering on...

"I see you brought everything." he stated expressionlessly, her aching legs shaking slightly when he reached a dripping hand up to push his sodden black locks of hair away from his face for them to sit in a slicked-back style. "There was no need to, but thank you."

She vacuumed up more air as she opened her mouth to interrupt him when she remembered what she'd just witnessed.

"You're just goin' to _stand there,_ are you?" he questioned bluntly, though his harsh tone was overrided as a breathy chuckle crept out from his mouth.

"N-No! I-I... " she spluttered out, and closed her eyes for a moment, moving her head to the right. When she opened her eyes again, her gaze was averted from his body and she walked forwards, towards the bookcase, where she dropped all the items she'd been holding onto the shelf's dusty top.

"Mr T," she began shortly, incredibly calm and composed as she leaned on the edge of the bookcase to keep herself upright. "I think someone's seen all that blood where ya... _y'know._ If they've seen 'at, they're gonna wonder 'ow it got there."

There was silence for a moment, and her eyes trailed in the direction of him, yet she did not turn her head to fully face him.

She kept her back to him.

"I saw someone there jus' now." she added in a hoarse wheeze, her voice cracking slightly from her inner apprehension. "They was cleanin' it up, Mr T! I don' know wot t'bloody well think of it. Should we be panickin'? Packin' our suitcases?! Oh _god!_ If someone knows then - "

"Yet why would someone want to _clean up_ our mess, instead of reporting it to a constable?!" he snapped at her loudly, causing her to jump from his anger-laced words. "Mrs Lovett, stop being _ridiculous_ and _think._ You're a cunning woman, I'll give you that, but at times you can be so stubborn that you're blind. Can't you see that no one in this world cares about the droplets of blood that _miraculously_ appear? They only care if they have all the evidence _there,_ right under their filthy noses. There is nothin' for them to find, Mrs Lovett. Walls covered with blood and no body? _'How strange, it emerged all on its own,'_ that's what they'll say. We're _safe._ Cease this worryin' nonsense of yours."

She turned around, yet still didn't look at him, only focused on the mistreated rug beneath her boots. She was silent as she trundled past the crackling fireplace, and sat herself down on the settee, next to the book she had selected from the case before.

"Did y'see what they looked like?" he suddenly wondered, the sound of water splashing distracting her thoughts again.

 _"No."_ she replied quickly and curtly, shuffling back into her previous position, where she lazily laid over the cushions. She reached for the book and held it over her stomach for the time being, her eyes too lost in the fierce reds and oranges dancing in the fireplace opposite her.

Sweeney let out an frustrated sigh and lifted his head away from the side of the basin, peering over the edge to look at her. He could tell that his off-the-cuff murder had clearly gotten to his accomplice - he had put the two of them out in the open that night, and they'd been far too close to being discovered for either of the two's liking. From her slight frown, and the way her lips were pursed, he knew that she was recalling the events of the evening.

"I will _not_ repeat the same mistake, Mrs Lovett. Don't have me down as a foolish man that does not learn from his past misdeeds." he spoke huskily, his tone alone was enough to force her to turn her head to face him - his head only visible as he looked back over his shoulder at her. "It won't happen again."

Her frown lifted and she nodded, internally her heart was ticking faster and faster. The very notion of them both having the same train of thought, and him being able to read her mind from her expressions made her swallow down her happiness.

She hadn't even had to utter a syllable.

Her eyes flew away from him as soon as he looked away and sat up straight in the bathtub, water loudly sloshing which made her swallow again. She couldn't deal with the strong waves of lust rippling through her and clawed her nails into the leather-covers of the novel in her palms.

She felt herself burning up all over, inside and out. She blamed the untamable flames, roaring away beneath the coal-stained chimney breast. But she knew it was because she could feel Mr Todd's gaze on her, stripping her all the way down to her bones in his mind.

Holding in a desire filled moan of frustration, she opened the cover of the book. She flicked through to a page she must have reached previously, the blood on her fingers thankfully dry as she held the flatter of the two pages with the tips of her digits. She brought the book closer to shelter her eyes from his tempting presence. She attempted to act oblivious.

It hurt not staring at him when he was right _there._

She heard him cupping water over himself again, and she read the words on the page before her, but was unable to make sense of the sentences in her brain...

Her mind was on other things. Like imagining the pallid white of his chest and abdomen, the flex of the muscles as he'd move... the feel of his masculine body hair under her bloodstained fingertips...

Stuck with her head in a book, Eleanor failed to realise that Sweeney knew exactly what she was doing. She'd missed the smirk he'd shot at her...

He cleared his throat and shuffled about in the water, purposely causing loud splashes in order to put her off her reading. He moved to the opposite end of the basin, so that he could face her better, his smirk broadening when he saw a snippet of the worried expression on her face. He enjoyed the look of torture on her face... it amused him. But what he enjoyed more was the thought of her looking over at him, caked in red droplets, advancing confidently towards him with the intent of _seduction_ in her eyes...

He soon found that his fantasies were taking him over and shook his head, replacing his expression of desire with something cold and stern. He couldn't have her hiding herself from him.

Not now.

Not _ever._

"Why is it you bother with propriety _now,_ Mrs Lovett?" he confronted in a teasing manner, and she could almost _hear_ the corners of his mouth curling up into a malicious grin as he spoke. "We're _alone_ for god's sakes! We could do _anythin'_ now that we are in the shadows, away from everyone, away from it _all."_

He watched in interest as her eyes paused over whatever line she was reading, and her mouth dropped into a thin line, brows dropping with feigned irritation.

" 'Cause there's a time an' a place Mr T. _Oddly enough,_ right now I don' really feel like makin' _merry_ when you've up right _killed_ a posh beggar willy nilly, and I've 'ad to 'elp ya shift the blighter down t'see ol' Lucifer 'imself! Oh! _And_ 'elp ya tear off his bleedin' flesh an' all! Not exactly 'ow a lady expects a man to _pursue_ 'er, is it?"

He actually scoffed back the coarse laughter that he wanted to let out. His brows rose in surprise at her and he swallowed back the laughing gas. After a few seconds of silence, he cleared his face of any trace of emotion in case she was to face him.

"Of course not." he retorted matter-of-factly, his tone still bitter. "But then _you_ are no _lady,_ Mrs Lovett. You are _so_ much more than that."

She let out an insulted _"Ha!"_ and then scoffed, taking her time in turning the next page between her fingers. From her eyes, she didn't look impressed. Sweeney wasn't sure whether that was because of _him_ or because of the _book..._

"Well thanks very much, dear. I'll add it t'me bleedin' list 'o skills, along with all me other variety o' _talents."_ she grumbled back to him, those chocolate orbs simmering with fiery passion as they trailed from left to right.

"In that case, s'pose you should add _practicality_ on there too, pet..." he added hoarsely, and that's when her mask of annoyance fell and she let out a dirty chuckle, her eyes giving away that she was actually flattered by his cruel playfulness.

The water shifted turbulently as Sweeney pushed himself up to stand with ease, using only the power of his arms either side of the tub in order to do so. She ignored the fact she could see his blurry, pale form in her peripheral vision - from her face, it was clear she was no longer reading the text printed in front of her...

"I don't s'pose you could pass me a towel?" he piped up, her eyes widening significantly as he spoke. "Wouldn't want to ruin your carpets now, _would we?"_

She swallowed and placed the book face down onto the settee - at least she'd keep her page.

" 'Course..." she squeaked out, like the fact he was exposed just to the side of her didn't even bother her - but it was in vain, because as she reluctantly stood back on her feet and slowly headed towards the airer just next to the fire, he noticed that her fists were clenched in nervousness.

She folded one of the warmed towels over arm and slowly turned back to him, eyes glued to the floor, just as her feet took painfully slow steps towards him.

Once she realised that she'd almost reached the basin, her eyes dropped shut and she completed the last few steps blindly to stand right in front of him. Her throat was suddenly dry as her ears picked up on the smallest of water droplets dripping from his body, and the shallow breaths coming from him.

Eleanor cautiously extended out her arm, offering Sweeney the cosy towel, oblivious to the fact he'd lowered himself so that he was face to face with her, staring directly at her.

When he didn't instantly take the towel, a frown appeared on her brow.

"Ya just gonna to _stand there,_ are ya?" she snapped at him in bother - although it was obvious to him that it was all a playful act, for her breathing had accelerated immensely.

He smirked at her cheekiness - he was beginning to enjoy her playing stubborn games with him.

"Of course not." he replied in monotone, yanking it impolitely from her grasp. "Don't be so _silly."_

She immediately backed away, standing in the middle of the parlour with her eyes shut.

"Tell me when." she whispered, though he wasn't sure why she was resisting her desires... perhaps she was afraid of what would happen? Or what she would _do..._

He shook his head with amusement and first dried his top-half with the frayed material, then touselled his hair briefly with it before stepping out of the basin. Blots of water scattered over the rug as he bent over to dry off his bottom half. Once he was done, he wrapped it around his waist and secured it in place with a sailors knot - that was only for Mrs Lovett's benefit, he knew she'd probably faint at the sight of him if the thing fell off, so it was a thankless precaution.

His bare feet quietly thumped towards her, his eyes studying her from the tips of her shoes to the ends of her auburn hair... he didn't want to see all that blood on her wash away, he thought it accompanied her appearance quite well.

"You may open your eyes now." he breathed, and she flicked her eyes open instantly... quicker than he'd expected.

He couldn't help but wonder what would have occurred had he said for her open her eyes earlier... perhaps it was a test? Then again he was sure that he did the most respectful thing...

Not that he'd wanted to.

She returned his examining gaze before dropping it to sneak a peak at his chest again then she pushed by him, already sliding the pins out of her hair. He swivelled around with a look of amazement on his face as she seemed fairly eager to undress. He was slightly confused whether she was comfortable with him staring at her... if she wasn't, he would have thought that she'd tell him?

Or maybe _this_ was a test too?

He headed towards the bookcase with a curious frown, black eyes never leaving her as she flung off each of her shoes. He couldn't help noticing that she was noticably smaller without the heels of her boots. His breath caught as her hair tumbled out of its hold and fell over her shoulders, the orange glow from the room's fire and candles reflecting in each bloodied strand.

He took his eyes from her for a moment, to pick up one of the bowls from the bookcase's top. Once he turned his attention back on her, she'd apparently already removed the top layer of her dress... he swallowed at the sight of her - spattered with blood and stripped down to her bodice, bloomers and stockings. He exhaled a shuddery breath. She was in the middle of shimmying off the last of her soiled skirts when she turned her head towards him, her eyes just as dark as his when her flirtatious smirk painted her plump lips.

His palms were sliding slightly against the wood of the bowl as he stood observing her, so stunned that he couldn't muster a smirk in return...

She too watched him for a moment, taking in the view of his now perspirating form, which only added to the glisten that had already coated his opal skin beforehand. Even though seeing him in such an arousing state of dress was causing her to get lost in him again, she managed to get a grip on what was happening.

She cleared her throat, placing her hands on her hips.

"The mirror's there behind ya, love." she reminded him, her voice telling him to avert his gaze, yet her eyes pleaded for those black eyes to stay put. "Ya may well be the best barber in London, but ya can't shave yaself without a mirror can ya?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but ended up gaping at her as she looked away, reaching down to haltingly roll down one leg of her stockings. His want for her blazed around his body as the material peeled away from her to reveal the pallid skin beneath. His slippy hands clenched around the bowl forcefully, his eyes following the route of her hand as it pushed off the other leg's stocking.

Before she could step out of the gathered stockings, he darted towards her, swallowing. Her breaths turned into gasps as he brushed by her in order to scoop up some hot water from the tub. After completing what he'd set out to do, he paused before turning to face her. She was fiddling with the laces behind her - she seemed to be used to the nonchalance of doing such a thing by herself, unlike Mr Todd, who frowned at her.

"Stop." he ordered in a husky tone, bending down to set down the filled bowl near to the pile of skirts and stockings still surrounding her feet.

She obeyed him and stood still as he passed her side to stand behind her. His hands started to loosen her laces one by one, though she knew he wasn't watching what he was doing for he hovered his head over her shoulder. She knew this because she could feel the warmth of his breath on her left ear lobe, and soon his face as he nestled his nose in her hair, taking in her scent. She thought that the blood would have put him off doing such a thing.

 _'Then 'gain 'e_ is _a murderer. 'S not like 'e'd ever think twice... '_ she reminded herself, a breath easing out of her as her bodice loosened by another few millimetres. It was hard for her to think of him as a killer as he stood there aiding her... then again, she'd probably have changed her mind had she seen the way his hands furiously shook with anticipation or the way his eyes took on a shadowed mania of desire as he stood behind her...

She would have definitely been reminded of the true devil that he was.

Any other gentleman would have been cooing as they helped their lover with such a thing. They would have been chatting, asking her how she could wear such a thing all day. That's what she'd envisioned the Sweeney in her dreams doing...

But the reality of him subtly pressing himself against her back, of him trailing his nose down from her locks to graze his lips at her neck without a word, of him yanking at the last of the laces impatiently...

It was better than she had ever imagined.

She leaned her head back, allowing him to press a firm, damp kiss to her throat. He lingered there as the bodice fell from her sides and front... to which her hands jolted upwards to hold the material to her chest in order to hide herself from him. He paused and studied the skin of her cleavage, or at least what she allowed him to see, which wasn't much more than the usual. He scowled with rejection as she gently moved away from him, still pressing the bodice to her skin.

Filled with intense want, and now undeniably aroused, he humphed and circled around her so that he was in front of her again, but only so that he could bend down to pick his bowl of water back up. On his way up to standing, he slowly trailed his eyes over her body, only turning away once he'd given her a threatening yet alluring look before walking away towards the bookcase.

Eleanor sighed, although she wasn't sure whether that was because she was disappointed or because she wasn't used to them both being so... _exposed._

Sweeney prepared his lather as she tried to quietly slide off her bloomers. She kept on glancing towards him every time she moved, and especially once she stepped out of the bundle of clothes at her feet...

By then he'd moved himself in front of the mirror - situated next to the bookshelf and mantelpiece - applying the lather to his face with one of his lather brushes.

Her eyes stayed on him as she let the bodice carefully fall from her front, revealing her nude form. Gulping, she stepped into the wash basin, a sigh escaping her as soon as her bones hit the warm water. Something about her knowing that Sweeney had already been in the water made her shiver with delight...

Sneaking a glance at her in the reflection in the mirror, he brought the blade of his razor to patches of stubble on his cheek, above one of his sideburns... he swiftly swiped away the stubble, focusing back on her as she tilted her head back, strands of her dark red hair falling backwards, her relaxed position revealing the porcelain skin from her face down to the tops of her breasts...

He took a second to tidy up the opposite cheek to match the other.

"Been waitin' t'do 'is all day!" she breathed out heavily, closing her eyes peacefully. He smirked darkly and closed his razor, slowly heading back to the bookcase and the bowl of water. He cupped the liquid from the bowl over his skin, washing off all of the shaving foam. He left his face damp, too impatient to see what his accomplice was doing behind him to care that he hadn't dried properly.

Immediately, as he focused on her once more, he noticed the vivid crimson in her hair again... he hadn't recalled it being so red before.

"You're not washin' your hair?" he asked curiously, stalking by her to sit on the couch, apparently in no rush to be dressed.

"Naa, there's no point doin' that 'til the weekend. I mean s'only gonna get bloodier, ain't it?"

"Then it's no wonder your hair is so red, pet."

She shot him an irritated glare as she snatched up one of the scrubbing brushes that had been poised on the edge of the basin, rubbing the bristles firmly over her fingernails.

He smirked at her reaction, not to mention the droplets of blood coming away from her cuticles. She bit down on her bottom lip to stop her own amusement, the last thing she wanted to do was to encourage the man.

Not that she had to do such a thing, he was going to carry on teasing anyway.

"I must say Mrs Lovett," he began lowly, and hoarsely, as he subtly glanced over at the title of the novel she'd been reading. "It's a shame that you have to wash yourself. You looked rather appetising with all that blood on you."

 _"Ha!_ Oh did I? Even though I smell like a bleedin' rottin' corpse by now. Don't tell me ya 'aven't noticed it, I know that ya 'ave!"

He stifled a laugh when he realised she'd been reading a rather _risque_ romance novel and averted his eyes from the book's cover, masking his amusement with complete uninterest.

"You do not _stink_ Mrs Lovett. And don't turn what I say around on itself. I meant to say that I liked the messy look on you, is all." he said in monotone, his voice's quiet volume sounding more dangerous than when he raised it into a yell.

She smirked, and looked back at him over her shoulder, his annoyed eyes darting towards her - the glint of mischief was something he was unable to conceal.

"Well... you oughta come down 'ere more often then, 'adn't ya?" she finally replied suggestively, turning her head away from him to focus on cleansing her skin of blood.

"I ought to _do_ a lot of things down _here_ , pet. Present company's attendance would be _compulsory,_ of course."

She paused in surprise at his not so subtle flirtation and felt herself glowing warmer by the second. He noticed her freezing her movements and grinned to himself, tipping up the book so that the spine sat in his palms. He silently began to read the page that she had reached, and his eyes widened as he realised just what kind of scene was occurring...

"You could 'ave at _least_ read this one out, Mrs Lovett," he taunted wickedly, causing her to shoot up out of the deep red, almost _black_ water to a standing position - but he was too far into reading to notice her bare body to the side of his view. She jumped out of the basin, all feeling of anxiety of him seeing her exposed being neglected as she sprinted across the carpet to snatch her towel from it place by the fire.

"If I'd known that _this_ is what you spend y'time entertainin' y'self with, I would've surely joined you down 'ere sooner, pet."

Her face flushed bright red, but this time she couldn't hide her embarrassment under all of the splotches of clotted blood. He lifted his head to smirk at her, but as soon as his eyes met with the drenched sight of her, his intentions changed.

He was reminded of _that_ evening in _that_ broom cupboard, when the two of them had been soaked to their bones, pressed against each other with no escape...

Too caught up in his memories he found his voice box rebelling against his better judgement.

"May I?" he whispered, standing with a drunken look upon his face. She wondered whether all that gin had finally hit him because she couldn't comprehend what he was referring to... until he started doing what he wanted without her reply anyway.

He took a few steps forward and roughly seized her by her sides, kneading circles there just as firmly.

 _"Let me dry you."_ he panted out in an almost pleading breath, those conniving, slender hands already sliding around the towel, beneath the curve of her breasts to grab a bunched up section of the towel behind her. Her eyes grew as he lowered his head to peck kisses over her throat, those hands brushing the towel against the skin beneath... until they soon realised they had to move somewhere else. She failed to surpress her moans as the soft pecks he pressed into her, soon grew into hungry teeth grazing over her neck. The hands soon grew impatient, sliding up and down her body, feeling the undisclosed curves of her figure, which were no longer hidden by the dress and corset.

" 'S not likely that I'm gonna be _dry_ wi' the way you're goin' now, Mr T..." she said hoarsely, causing him to pause and tilt his head upwards, so they were chin to chin, bottomless eyes stabbing into her intoxicated chocolate pools.

She was too fixed on his gaze to recognise that wily smirk tugging on his lips.

 _God,_ he wanted her.

He wasn't sure if it was the gin that had made him so insistent with her, or whether it was just his own mind leading him astray. He should have been keeping his distance - he scolded himself for not leaving once he'd bathed himself. Him staying there and taking interest in his accomplice was incredibly _inappropriate_...

Then again, if something was inappropriate he would always get sucked in.

She gently pushed him from her, but confidently placed a chaste kiss on his lips, grinning proudly as his hands loosened from her and she backed away. She wanted to carry on just as much as he did, but she didn't have the energy.

The two of them awkwardly shuffled around each other, retrieving their undergarments from the floor. Luckily as they had been dropped their attires at opposite ends of the parlour, they immediately discarded their towels thoughtlessly and shoved on their clothes...

They never glanced back to each other as they pulled on their undergarments, knowing that their anticipation would have been broken if they did.

They held their damp towels as bundles in their arms and they both had the same idea, walking towards the airer next to the fireplace.

Mrs Lovett withheld a gasp as she caught sight of how little he actually had on compared to her. She had her bloomers covering her legs and her bodice loosely clinging to her torso, whilst he was content in being clad in only his undershorts. She expected him to go back to the other side of the room in order to dress fully, but he sneakily stroked his hand down the side of her bare forearm as he passed her, clenching his grip around her to tug her to follow him.

He pulled her to sit down on the settee forcefully, throwing the book carelessly out of the way so that he could sit next to her, causing it to loudly thud against the floor.

Eleanor scowled at Sweeney, wondering what on Earth he was doing as he turned away from her, lifting the bottle of gin up to refill her glass, and to top up his. He studied her as he handed her tumbler to her, her hand snatching it eagerly from him. She needed something strong to stop her from saying something to ruin the moment.

She brought the rim of the glass to her lips, narrowing her eyes at him as she tipped the gin back in one flick, not even flinching as she swallowed it down. He didn't back down either, and necked his down too.

They shared a smirk.

She outstretched her arm that held the glass to him, quietly asking him to pour another.

He placed his empty glass on the end table and leaned forwards, using his index and ring finger to push the glass down, as a consequence her arm fell with it...

He closed the space between them, outstretching his arm to press a hand to the wall behind them both, lowering himself so that he was nose to nose with her. Their eyes drooped down as the skin of their noses touched, their heartbeats hammering away ten to the dozen. Their breathing sped up as he lowered himself further, grazing his lips over hers.

"Could I stay down here?" he whispered breathlessly, her eyes opening wider in wonder. "With the cold - "

Her eyelids dropped again as she cut him off with a chuckle, the air she pushed out through her mouth warm against his lips. She answered him with a small smile, already telling him that his wish was no trouble at all.

" 'Course, love. Y'd be barmy if ya went back up them stairs." she accepted breathily. "An' don't be worryin' 'bout Toby botherin' ya. The boy ain't been 'ere fer a while now, god knows where 'e's been. 'S unlikely 'at 'e'll disturb ya."

 _"Good."_ he said shortly.

He hastily closed back in on her to seize her lips with his own in a vigorous kiss, his arm collapsing from the wall to meet the other as it reached up to her auburn head of hair. His fingers were now tangled amongst her locks, her arms locking around his bare torso.

Her arms tightened as he pushed himself over her, forcing her to lay back over the settee. He followed her movements, their lips braying harder as he pinned her down. She hummed into his mouth, his hands forming into claws as he grabbed handfuls of her hair. He growled back as her hums of enjoyment got louder, the thin layers of clothing between them rubbing against them which only added to their pleasure.

Sweeney took his lips from her for a moment, their eyes opening to study the mischievous certainty in each of their irises.

"I've been waitin' to do that for a very long time..." he murmured throatily - she was sure that his thoughts were slipping through to her without his stoic filter watering feelings down...

Eleanor smirked.

She knew what he was after.

But she wished to ensure that he _really_ wanted her. She still wasn't sure if he had just accepted that they were having an affair to ensure that he bedded her quicker... if he was _that_ mad for her, he would have patience. Or she'd _force_ him to be patient with her.

He could take as many damn lives as he wanted, but he'd have to damn well _wait_ if he wanted to _take her_ as his own...

As he returned to her lips, she melted limply, her body calm despite her heart racing. _"Wait..."_ she murmured reluctantly against his lips, her eyes widening when he actually paused and lifted himself off her slightly so that he hovered over her.

"Not yet," he sighed disappointedly, eyes filled with frustration and his usual heart-breaking grief. "you're not ready..."

 _'You don't love me.'_ she thought to herself, searching his gaze for anything reminiscent of what she thought to be love.

Then again, she wasn't sure what such a thing looked like.

Especially from a black-hearted murderer.

"Soon." she said simply, though the sadness shone through her voice so obviously that his eyes changed to their usual unreadable voids.

He hated her denying them both of what they both wanted.

_No._

What they both _needed._

He was confused at the woman. He knew she was head-over-heels in love with him, so what was holding her back? He was completely comfortable with them both being intimate and had even admitted that he'd craved her _desperately,_ so what was missing?

The barber left her embrace completely, sitting up straight in the gap next to her feet.

"You should sleep."

Her expression was one of confusion as she sat up, wincing as she did so.

"What? But it's not even that la - "

"Sleep, Mrs Lovett." he snarled through gritted teeth, glaring at her with a scowl. "Now."

She let out an offended breath of air and shook her head at him, pushing herself up to stand with all the effort her poor aching bones could muster.

She went to go and pick her bloodied dress and stockings from the floor but he growled out a _"Leave them."_ and she silently strolled towards her bedroom door instead. She prayed that he'd speak again before she reached her door... but he didn't. She paused, hand poised over her doorhandle.

"G'night, Mr T..." she croaked out, suddenly feeling cold even though the stoked fire was still flickering away.

She swore she heard him let out a remorseful sigh... she wasn't sure though, her ears often played tricks on her.

"Goodnight, Eleanor."

She smiled to herself, not hesitating another second in entering her room.

As her door closed, Sweeney huffed out in annoyance, his mind's thoughts driving around in circles.

One half of him was mortified with himself. He felt ridiculous for trying to tempt her to sleep with him again... he shouldn't have been focusing on doing such a thing with her. He kept telling himself that his efforts should have been poured into slitting a certain _judge's jugular..._

The other half wanted to join her in that cosy bed of hers. He wanted to feel her all around him... he wanted to know what ecstasy she could bring him, what love he could feed from her to understand how he truly felt about her...

Yet he stayed sat on the settee.

Staring at her door.

Thoughts constantly bickering around his skull.

The only thing that night, that he was sure of, was that he afraid of really getting to know her.

Perhaps he was just afraid that he would want more after he'd been with her?

Or perhaps he was afraid that she would be his new addiction?


	15. A Little Lie

Ever since Mr Todd's _accidental murder_ away from his usual prowling grounds, everything had been running rather smoothly, much to the dark couple's surprise. Throats were being slashed left, right and centre, customers were actually _queuing_ just get a seat in Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium - and poor Eleanor Lovett had never been down the bake-house stairs so much in her _life!_

The partners in crime weren't just focusing on keeping their morbid businesses going either.

Since that eventful night of a few days prior, Mr Todd had made it in his routine to close up shop and head down his stairs. Eleanor had been a little more than delighted to see that it hadn't been a one-time event.

The two of them would just sit in the parlour together for an hour, perhaps even two.

Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they drank. Sometimes they were completely silent.

Their lust was always there as background noise, but it was not so deafening that it would take them both over. The habitual exhaustion after their long days of killing, wearing masks and dismembering - all of it pegged them down to being just murderer and accomplice, and nothing more. Even though their apparent _affair_ had seemed to taint into something faded and forgotten, the baker knew that if Mr Todd wanted something as badly as he did her, it wouldn't be so easy for him to just put a pin in the idea.

He was biding his time.

Because if Sweeney Todd wanted something, he'd snatch it.

After the hour (or two) was up, Mrs Lovett would always give him a hopeful glance as she bid him goodnight - she'd wish the two of them weren't so fatigued, or at least kid herself that she had enough energy in her to initiate an advance towards him... but her self-esteem was slowly diminishing with each night that went by... and with each chop she took to each gargling corpse that dropped down from the shop above.

The blood was starting to stain her cuticles.

She wouldn't complain, she would always set her desires aside.

She'd give him the warmest, kindest smile before she closed her bedroom door.

And he would be silent, his eyes always so unreadable as they hovered over her door. He'd stay sat there for quite some time, just staring at it like he expected the blasted thing to fling open any moment.

He'd _urge_ it to open.

At least if it was _open,_ he'd have an excuse to _visit_ her in the middle of the night...

It wouldn't be long until his mind would trail to the endless, vivid fantasies he had of her...

_Tearing away the undergarments from her. Teeth tugging on her lips roughly. Mischievous fingertips running over her deathly pale skin..._

He would wish for his thoughts of grief and murder to return, for the tempting thoughts of her were almost too much for him - mind _and_ body - to handle. The baker was unknowingly tormenting him, unaware of what effect she had on him every night - unaware that the spell she had him under burst its way through him to veil his true ambition, causing his plans of vengeance to be interrupted.

He'd lay back over the settee, faintly aroused, the fire still roaring away next to him. He'd chant his late wife's name as his eyes would close in a futile effort to keep his desires away. He'd fall asleep to the monotonous sound of Lucy's name, the flickering flames casting diagonal shadows over his pallid features.

Even in his land of dreams, the sound of his angel's name couldn't protect him. Because Eleanor was the only thing present in his crooked mind's eye. Her entire aura surrounded him - the imaginary feel of his hands over her, the illusion of her wrapping her bare form around him, her breath exhaled in rags, her face reddened with arousal, her eyes _pleading_ for him to take her...

Everything.

 _Everything_ about her invaded his entire being.

And he would never wake from the sight of her until morning.

* * *

Frost glazed Fleet Street's cobbles as the night-sky loomed over the entire of London, like a cloud of swirling black smoke. It wasn't exactly a _magical_ night considering that it was Christmas Eve. Rain droplets clung to the filthy, polluted air, which hung around like a wallowing, hunched wraith. There was no snow, much to most dreamers and children's dismay, and both Mrs Lovett and Mr Todd couldn't deny they were slightly disappointed too.

Christmas Eve was always going to be one of the busiest nights of the year for them both. As the steady flow of victims wandered up Mr Todd's stairs, and passed down the chute a little _less_ well-off, Mrs Lovett was attempting to cope with her hectic pie-rush. She was going to-and-fro from her shop to the bake-house in an endless loop, never daring to stop for a breather.

Towards the end of the working night, on one of her last trips down to something she often regarded as _hell,_ she had to actually take a moment to stop and gasp at the sight before her eyes... how had he killed _that_ many? Something bothersome had clearly gotten to the barber, as the precarious pile of blood-drenched bodies suggested.

There was _no way_ that she would be able to dispose of them all before the infuriating barber blocked up the chute with even more _vermin._ Clearly the lot of corpses she already had to take care of would take her _all night_ to cut up, perhaps even until the start of the next morning.

She had to stop him before he killed anyone else.

 _'Well that's what_ I _get f'sayin' I needed more meat than usual for Christmas Day!'_ she scolded to herself, her expression worried as she dropped her empty pie tray with a shatter and bustled back up the bake-house stairs as fast as her heeled boots would take her.

She huffed as she passed through the mass of customers and mess of tables in the courtyard, yet another couple of items she had to add to the list of things that she had to clean up. She reached the bottom of those infamous stairs and muttered curses, hugging her arms around her body as she pushed herself to climb each step faster. Once she reached the top she let out a visible breath, eyes darting about her to check if anyone was watching her. Then she pushed into the barber's door, her heavy breaths alerting him instantly - he knew that it was _her._ He was stood beside his vanity, icily staring down at his hands.

He didn't turn to her, only continued to sharpen his razor over his strop, watching his actions emptily.

 _"Mr T!"_ she panted out, the door slamming behind her caused him to snap his attention to her, his irritation evident when he dropped what he was clutching and stalked towards her.

He outstretched his hand towards her and seized hold of her by the base of her neck, pulling her across the length of his room. She gasped out as he scowled and turned them around in order to throw her against the wall. Her back collided with the surface with a clatter, her eyes squeezing shut as he held his arms against the wall either side of her.

"What is it?!" he snarled at her, his eyes cluttered with dark intent - though she wasn't sure how to feel in return, she found it both terrifying and alluring at the same time. _"Quickly,_ woman!"

"D-Don't kill any more of 'em Mr T!" she choked out, her expression fearful as he glared at her in shock. "I-I can't keep up, there's a _pile_ of 'em down there now. Mr T, _please,_ me poor bones is bound fer 'ell any moment now..."

"Don't kill any _more_?" he whispered, slamming his palm against the wall next to her in frustration, her body shaking though her eyes lost their fear. "Don't kill _any more?!_ Do you have any _idea_ how insolent you are, Mrs Lovett? It is _my_ choice who I kill, and how many. You have no - "

"And it's _my_ bleedin' choice whether I clear all 'o your mess up, or leave it t'fester away an' _rot._ Lo and _be'old_ that Beadle - no - _the Judge_ comes up 'ere fer a good ol' chin-wag and a spot o' _murder - "_

_"Shut up."_

He growled as she sucked in another lot of air to spout off at him, and he brashly closed in on her, growling again as he callously enveloped her fiery mouth with his. It had been a desperate move on his part, but it was a sensation that two of them had undeniably missed. She whimpered against him but immediately reacted roughly back to him, her arms stayed limp by her sides but her fingernails clawed into the wallpaper as he pressed himself against her.

He reluctantly tore himself from her when his mind scorched him for what he was doing - what had _possessed_ him to do such a thing? He would _always_ make sure that he'd think out his advances towards her - not just lash out on a _whim._ What was _wrong_ with him?

Before Sweeney could snap at her like it was _her_ fault for his actions, she cut his intentions short.

"Come down, on our day off..." she breathed out, lust clouds in her eyes causing his gaze to become hypnotised, his mouth opening as his voice-box contemplated a reply. "I can't 'ave ya sat up 'ere sulkin' when it's Boxin' Day, can I?"

"No." he answered firmly, the frown on his brow obviously feigned as his eyes shone with blatant desire. "Don't be ridiculous."

"C'mon, love..." she breathed airily as she stood on her tip-toes, dipping her head in towards him in order to confidently graze her lips over the nape of his neck. "I promise ya that I'll make it _well_ worth ya while..."

 _'Eminently practical...'_ he thought to himself with amusement, the flicker of a smirk touching his lips as she pressed a chaste kiss on the slither of neck's skin that he was showing.

"Please..." she whispered, cautiously sliding her palms up his chest to link around his neck. She sunk back down onto her heels to stare at him with hopeful longing.

"I'll think about it." he muttered in monotone, though those eyes gave away his interest. He was still afraid of what would happen. Afraid of whether she was going to be better than he anticipated her to be.

She gave him a sad smile and nodded her head - she'd give him the rest of tomorrow to think it over, after all, they'd still be working on Christmas Day.

"You should get back to your customers." he said sternly, pacing away from her to collect the razor he'd carelessly dropped to his splintering floorboards - as he bent down he briefly turned his head in her direction. "Otherwise people will start to wonder."

She smirked and put her hands on her hips, "They already do. I never woulda thought it'd be a sellin' point of a business, but 'ere we are."

He too, smirked, his eyes flashing as he studied if any scratches had formed over his silver razor. He stood up straight, his back still to her. She observed him for a moment, hoping that he'd turn to face her so she could get lost in his eyes, something _far_ more important than the greedy customers downstairs...

But he didn't, he just headed over to his vanity in order to polish his razor to perfection. She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Will you be down later?" she asked, though she had already taken a few steps towards the door, anticipating his ignorance.

"If you'd like." he said vacantly, clearly he hadn't even registered what she'd said - not that it mattered to her, the warm smile graced over her lips regardless.

"See ya after closin' then." she whispered, finally reaching the door with a smug smile on her face. She opened the door and exited in one swift movement, unable to get the excitement out of her body language. She paused by his door for a moment and closed her eyes, inhaling the probably _toxic_ air around her. Suddenly, it was like the cold of winter around her had never even existed, for a delightful warmth swooped through her, her arms wrapping around herself in a tight hug.

The _thought_ alone of the man she _loved_ spending an hour or two with her took over her brain - she treasured each night he sat with her in the parlour, even if nothing truly became of them doing so. But now it was routine for them, and something she would always look forward to after an arduous day of work... She pleasantly shivered.

The dense patter of someone traipsing the barber's stairs made her snap out of her trance and she swallowed. Her eyes trailed to the person heading up towards their slaughter - her breath hitched...

It was _him._

_The Judge._

She involuntarily glared at him, but plastered on a welcoming smile even though it didn't quite meet her eyes.

She hoped to _God_ that Mr Todd would slit that dirty throat of his tonight, that way she and he could move on with their lives. She didn't want to keep up their slaughterhouse scheme if it was unnecessary after all - though she wasn't entirely opposed to him killing anyone else if they were to stand in the way of their freedom...

 _"Ah!"_ the lewd man greeted her, giving her an admiring smile. "Mrs Lovett, what brings _you_ up here? Mr Todd is not occupied with a customer, is he? I can come back at a suitable time if - "

"Oh!" she gasped in the sweetest, highest voice she could feign. " 'Course not, Your Honour. 'Was just checkin' on me tenant, is all. 'E 'ad a couple'a troublesome customers earlier - " - she fought back a smirk at her sly hint - " - was a bit shaken 'e was, but 'e's right as rain now."

"I see. I am in need of a clean cheek as it is the festive season, I trust that Mr Todd's parlour must be thriving now that he has settled down in London?" he inquired, and she really could not stand the man's small talk any longer. She backed away from the door and instead stood by the banister of the stairs, allowing him to pass by her with no need to come close to her.

_She was always good at planning ahead._

"S'pose so," she replied highly, sighing. "Every customer that comes out 'o there's always smilin'."

The Judge grinned at her and nodded, "Well I can assure you that I will be smiling also."

With that he gave her another nod and entered the tonsorial parlour, completely oblivious to Mrs Lovett's outburst of amused snorts as she immediately headed back down the stairs.

The sound of the shop's bell chiming out made Mr Todd frown into the shattered mirror in front of him, his dagger-like orbs catching a disfigured reflection of Judge Turpin... he withheld the urge to grin fiendishly and put on a mask of trusting sincerity. He spun around stiffly, walking over the floorboards, which gave out a feeble creak with each step he took.

"Good evening, Mr Todd." the infuriating man spoke, holding his nose up into the air slightly.

"Good evening, Your Honour." he replied with a nod, coming to a stop behind his barber chair, his hands resting on the back of it. They soon clawed into it before long as his prey skulked about his shop, like he was _inspecting_ the place rather than just heading in for a quick shave. The barber clenched his teeth, his mask of seriousness cracking slightly.

"I wish for a shave, if it is not too much trouble." the nosy man finally spoke, suddenly approaching the barber after inspecting something near to the door. "I would not wish to take my custom anywhere else. Beadle Bamford informed me that you are quite possibly the _best_ barber in London. At this notion, I could not refuse to receive a shave from you."

Sweeney gave him a proud smirk, although his black eyes were clouded with disgust and murderous intent. _Finally,_ a chance at slitting that _throat_. His veins tightened all around his body as the taste of vengeance coated his tongue. He could almost _smell_ the blood already - he couldn't _wait_ to dig his blade into the despicable rat's neck. He urged to bash his skull against the floorboards to see the blood pool beneath his head, the burgundy liquid staining into the neatly cut ridges in the wooden floor.

His mind paused for a moment however, remembering Mrs Lovett's words. The bake-house was becoming overcrowded with corpses, and it wouldn't be long until the scent of death seeped into every corner of her premises, not to mention _his._

 _'But he's right_ there. _You_ have _to kill him. For Lucy. For who he's killed. For the family he's destroyed.'_ he thought internally.

His actions and meaningless small-talk were machine-like as the Judge sat in the barber chair. He draped the barber cape over his target, eyes glazed over with the macabre thoughts swirling within his mind.

_'What if you let him go tonight? He could ruin someone else's life.'_

He gritted his teeth, heading over to his vanity, the wretch's chatter still droning away behind all of his overwhelming ideas.

 _'I don't care about anyone else. He_ needs _to die. But if it's done now, we face the chance of being discovered, it_ is _Christmas Eve. Someone will be expecting the man back_ home, _perhaps even Beadle Bamford. That sad excuse for a man will have to go_ long _before the Judge, otherwise the law will be on us like wildfire.'_

'Us? _Who's the "us"?'_ his thoughts bit back at him and he frowned down at the bowl of lather he'd apparently prepared absent-mindedly. He swallowed and knew the answer, but he didn't want to think about _her_ at a time like _this._

 _'Let him live.'_ his mind went on, as his head nodded along to the Judge's nattering. _'There'll be another chance at putting him down again. It's too risky to do so now. Do a good job and it'll be more than likely that he'll return to you...'_

He smirked slightly as the Judge closed his eyes. He pasted the lather over his neck and chin quickly, wishing for the shave to be over with as quick as possible now that he had decided not to kill him.

He itched to stuff the lather brush down the back of his throat and choke the sick man to death, but he resisted and dropped his equipment back on his vanity, sending a seething glare back to the chair. He swung around and returned to his place in front of his enemy. Never taking his eyes away from the vulnerable Judge, he unsheathed his razor silently, holding it close to the man's face. Gritting his teeth, he swiftly sliced away at the foam and stubble. He narrowed his eyes, harshly pushing the blade to limit as he guided it below the man's chin. He was rushing over the neck and pressing in cruelly, adding a slight stinging pain to the man's shave - luckily it wasn't enough to leave a slice in the skin.

It wasn't another minute when Mr Todd was finished. He reluctantly grabbed a flannel and wiped away the remnants of the lather from the Judge's face, admiring his own handiwork despite the fact he wanted to tear the man in half with his bare hands.

He stepped away from the man, removing the cloth over him as he did so.

The Judge instantly ran his hands over his chin and nape, a sickening smile smearing across his face.

"That was the fastest, smoothest shave I have ever received!" he exclaimed, eyes filled with wonder. "You certainly take _pride_ in your craft, Mr Todd. I have to agree with my friend Beadle Bamford. You are a talented wonder to the city of London."

He immediately stood from the chair, standing before the barber with a shudder-worthy smile, icy grey eyes staring into ones that only reflected a blackened heart. The man had the nerve to pat his barber on the shoulder, "You will be _highly_ recommended, my friend. You shall see a great increase in custom after the new year, I have no doubt."

He fished a note out of his pocket, and Mr Todd actually widened his eyes... more out of shock than anything. He took the money from the man with a thankful nod of the head, silently left to his regrets of letting his prey go.

"You shall _certainly_ be seeing me again, Todd." The Judge said happily with another crude smile and with that, he left the parlour.

Mr Todd stood there stiffly for a moment, staring down at the note half scrunched within his palm. The Judge had overpaid him by a great deal - it wasn't the genorosity that had shocked him however, it was how the man could just give away such an amount of money without a moment's thought.

 _'That rat treats money the same way he does his women...'_ he sneered to himself, hand clenching around the note which caused it to create a crumpling sound.

After shaking himself out of his thoughts, he shoved the money into his pocket and decided that he should calm down - after an intense encounter with his sworn nemesis, he couldn't think straight. He flipped his sign to closed and swallowed, puffing out erratic breaths. He knew he'd done the right thing letting him go... but _god,_ he could have _got_ him...

Deciding that he loathed the sight of his barbershop for the time being, he exited his shop internally, passing by his bedroom quarters along the way.

He rushed down the staircase, frowning to himself as he heard the boisterous noise of customers from Mrs Lovett's shop to his right. He instead, turned left, hoping that no one saw him. Then immediately wished they had. Well what did he care? He supposed it gave all the busybodies something to ponder over, and he supposed the more rumours, the more nosy custom they would get.

Entering Eleanor's parlour, he pushed against the metal bar sat across the bake-house doors, in order for it to unlock, throwing each one open in a frenzied manner.

He felt like he may as well have put himself to some sort of use. Perhaps chopping up some of his dead victims would relieve his stress? They were only festering down there otherwise.

Once the doors slammed shut behind him, he scowled down towards the bottom of the chiselled stairs, eyes gleaming at the sight of all the bodies sprawled out in various painful-looking positions. He started to traipse down the stairs, eyes darting about the pitch black at the hints of shadows being cast from the couple of lit candles about the place.

He wasn't appalled with himself for killing a couple of dozens of men - _vermin_ \- and in fact, knowing he took away that amount of lives made him internally smirk.

There was not a _shred_ of remorse.

Sweeney was on his guard as he trailed his eyes over the mass of bodies, wondering where on Earth he was to start. He'd have to undress them all, then cut them all up into manageable pieces... A task like that was going to be gruelling and torturous, but he couldn't leave it all to Mrs Lovett - he had time on his hands now, and seeing as the bake-house was full to the brim there was no time to waste.

He frowned to himself as he rolled up his sleeves and roughly took hold of one of the bodies, dragging it over to the side of the meat grinder. As he dumped it there and moved over to the bodies directly below the chute, the brief sound of faint breathing forced him to pause.

In a paranoid manner, his body turned full-circle, black eyes scanning the place for any signs of movement - especially from any of the corpses. When he didn't pick up on anything, he shook his head and latched his merciless hands around the legs of another victim, dragging them over to the same place like he had done previously.

Panic set in as the clunk of the lock on the doors above sounded out.

He froze, hands snatching away from the body, causing it to fall to the ground with a dense _thump_. He scowled up to the light that flooded across the top of the staircase, his hand poised over the razor in his holster.

A figure slipped in before the doors shut, their boots clicking as they slowly, heavily made their way down the stairs. They puffed out breaths of fatigue once they reached the last step...

"Bleedin' 'ell. Best start on 'is, 'adn't I?" Eleanor muttered to herself, already grabbing hold of one of the bodies nearest to her.

Sweeney's eyes gleamed with relief and his twitchy razor hand eased away from his holster, his breathing shallow as he watched her shadow approach him. He heard her grunts of effort and the scrape of the corpse against the brick slabs on the floor - she was heading straight for him.

Yet he didn't budge.

She was backing towards him, a cruel smirk emerging on his lips.

And just like that, she bumped into him.

The start of an enormous screech spewed out of her mouth as she let go of the body. But luckily, Mr Todd had pressed himself against her and wrapped an arm around her, his hand muffling the rest of her scream. Her body was tense as he held her to him, he lowered his head next to her ear, a dark chuckle escaping him.

"It's only _me,_ Mrs Lovett." the sly barber whispered, her body noticably relaxing against him. "There's no need to scream like that, you're customers may well 'ave 'eard you, y'know?"

Despite herself, Eleanor found desire surging through her again, even though she was _more_ than annoyed with him for startling her.

He released her from his arms and she immediately turned on him, a pout and scowl on her features as she put her hands on her hips.

"Don't you ever - _ever,_ do 'at again!" she breathed dangerously, the light bouncing off her narrowed eyes to make them gleam threateningly. "If you're already in 'ere make sure I know 'fore I come down them stairs for 'eaven's sakes!"

He opened his mouth to reply to her, but it soon closed as she settled her eyes on something over the floor behind him... her eyes widened as she let out a silent gasp. He frowned at her and went to turn but she reached towards a hand around his arm to stop him from doing so.

"What?" he whispered firmly. "What is it?!"

"Th-There's one movin'..."

His eyes widened to saucers to match her look of intrigued concern and this time, he actually turned. She moved quietly so that she stood beside him, her eyes filled with an equal amount of horror as his held.

One of the bodies nearer to the oven appeared to _stir,_ yet there were no sounds of pained coughing or spluttering - no pleads for _mercy._ The two of them gaped in shock as the body - previous laid out flat - sat up with a straight back, the flickering light from the oven's flames behind them giving their silhouette an ethereal glow. Mrs Lovett snatched hold of Mr Todd's hand, clutching around it with so much force that he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from letting out a snarl of pain.

 _This_ certainly hadn't happened before - then again, due to the amount of people that he'd killed, the two of them should have anticipated such a thing _possibly_ happening.

To add to their confusion, the person managed to reach for an item that had been strewn across the floor next to them. They flipped the item over in their hands to place it on top of their head...

Eleanor's eyes widened.

_A stove-pipe hat._

It was the same person who had been cleaning up their mess from all those nights ago - it _had_ to be! Had they been a customer? They _must_ have been to have ended up in her bake-house, _surely?_

They continued to watch in awe as the person got to their feet effortlessly, their frame far too small to be one of a full-grown man. In the midst of brushing themselves down they appeared to tilt their head towards the couple, like they had finally realised that it wasn't exactly a _safe_ time to get up from the ground...

The barber narrowed his eyes and suddenly pushed the baker off of him, unsheathing his razor even as she tumbled to the ground - luckily her fall was cushioned by all the bodies around her. She watched with wide eyes as Sweeney shot towards the stranger, growling with rage.

She overheard scuffles of hurried feet, the scrape of something metallic being shifted ...

_The sewer grate._

_"Don't_ you fuckin' _dare!"_ Sweeney yelled, the violent madness wheezing into his enraged tone. Never before had Mrs Lovett wished to be away from him...

...until _now._

The shadow was silent in voice, even as they swiftly slid down the hole leading to the sewer system, their only giveaway of existing was the brief splash as their small feet hit the thin layer of water beneath.

Mrs Lovett gasped out a _"Wait!"_ but as usual, she was too late to persuade the barber away from his impulses.

He snarled and tore the rest of the grate away, jumping down after them.

Eleanor collapsed back, out flat over the dead bodies beneath her, closing her eyes in concern - though she pleaded that he would get rid of them quickly, and _silently_. She could hear the splashes as he ran in the sewers below her, but they were slowly fading away with every split-second that her heart pounded that little bit faster.

Sweeney was absolutely _livid._ Adrenaline fueled him to sprint faster with every breath that pumped out of him. With every drain that passed above them, the moonlight's rays burst through the gaps, causing them to act as lamps - ensuring that it was unlikely that he was going to lose the person from his sight. Hand clasped eagerly around his open razor, his eyes locked onto the speedy figure running from him.

He'd never wanted to kill someone so badly as he did then. Then again, his bloodlust for Judge Turpin had not subsided, and the threat that this stranger caused only _added_ to his murderous desires.

The two were running around the sewers for a good few minutes before one of them made a mistake...

_...and tripped up._

The psychotic glare of hope in Sweeney's eyes lit up his face as he sped up his pace, knowing that he'd finally got them.

They were hunched over the water, breaths pumping out of them as they clutched at their side, the darkness made the unique details about the person indistinguishable.

The barber grinned maliciously as he extended his right arm out in front of him, taking aim as he rapidly approached the doubled-over figure.

His shoes skidded over the water when he was near enough to take a swipe - he slashed at them furiously, only one of many attempts actually cutting into them.

They cried out in pain, their voice a lot higher than he had expected. The razor's blade had managed to cut through the material of their jacket and through to their collarbone's skin, blood gushing out of their freshly opened wound. They huffed out breaths - and turned on him.

Shocked at their reaction, he paused with a look of confusion.

He wheezed out as they barged into him, their insistent strikes to his ribs causing him to stumble backwards. They were almost free to escape him but Sweeney growled with fury, using his free hand to clutch around one of their arms. They were still managing to squirm away and he held back another snarl, starting forwards as he gave a potent kick to the back of their achilles tendon.

They sucked in a winded breath but didn't cease their struggles - his strong arm soon lost it's grip on them and they managed to elbow him in the ribs again.

He fell back, but not completely, but it had been enough for them to tear away, sprinting with a slight hobble now thanks to him...

He took a moment to catch his breath, eyes drawn to the droplets of blood that had dripped into the thin stream of water below his feet...

_They'd gotten away._

* * *

Mrs Lovett had grown tired of lying in worry, and had already chopped up a fair amount of bodies as she waited for Mr Todd to return.

Any faint sound that came from the open grate made her pause, but most of the time it was probably just a rat ferreting around in the pipes down there.

It was a good half an hour before she heard something promising...

The sound of heavy footsteps smacking against the water below her caused her to stop midway through grinding. Her heart raced until the point that she could hear it in her ears as the footsteps got louder. They stopped as soon as she turned her head to face the sewers - a bloodied hand emerged from the manhole bearing a silver razor. The barber tossed the weapon upwards and it skittered across the stone slab floor.

His flat hands pushed against the floor above him, propelling him upwards so that he could climb out of the sewer with ease. He bent down and turned his back on her to roughly lock the grate in place, scowling down at it with annoyance.

She quietly neared him, her concerned eyes on the razor that he'd quickly discarded.

"M-Mr T?"

He closed his eyes and stood up, inhaling deeply.

"Close up shop." he whispered, almost _softly_ as she hugged her arms around him in an attempt at a loving embrace. "Close up, Eleanor. Rest yourself. There is nothin' t'be worryin' about."

"I ain't goin' _anywhere,_ Mr T! Not 'til you tell m - "

"I _said_ \- " He spun round to face her, hands reaching beneath her arms to claw around her wrists - his eyes were ablaze and bloodshot, and made her audibly swallow. - " Close. _Up._ We have nothin' more t'be _worryin'_ about."

She slid her hands out of his grip, shooting him a look of rejection, though she still trusted that he'd taken care of the rogue _'body'._ Tears filled her eyes as she obeyed him, hurrying back up the stairs without another word.

He clenched his teeth as he bent down again, wincing as he did so - his ribs were already beginning to bruise. He picked up his razor from the floor and stood back up straight, well, as straight as he could. It seemed that the stranger knew the exact spot to render him winded.

He shouldn't have lied to Eleanor.

But he would have sounded _pathetic_ if he'd told her the truth there and then. He couldn't admit to her that he'd not killed the Judge _and_ the stranger who now knew their secret, during the _same_ night...

It was just too _embarrassing_.

He sighed, placing his razor back in his holster, wiping away the speckles of blood that coated his right hand with his left palm.

He would keep a sharp eye that night.

But he had a feeling that the hat-wearing stranger wouldn't be back to Fleet Street in a hurry.


	16. Fashionable Roleplay

Christmas Day was certainly _never_ going to be one of Mr Todd's preferred days. And not just because of the joyous atmosphere that seemed to choke him with disgust.

It was the fact he actually _couldn't_ stay up in his shop.

Unlike Mrs Lovett, Mr Todd's business was not worth opening. Most gentleman would be at home with their families or feasting outside in some place like the thriving pie emporium downstairs.

He was stood frozen in the courtyard of said place on the eve of such an important date, as his thoughts took over his entire body.

The baker had persuaded him down from his trusty barber chair, claiming that he'd look rather _odd_ if he sat upstairs all day... and in a way, the barber could see her point. On such a poignant day, he supposed that being a recluse _would_ look suspicious - especially since he wanted to keep the _'affair'_ charade going on with Mrs Lovett, and he knew what lurid gossip did for business, not to mention for his own _vengeance._ Reluctantly he'd accepted her proposition to help her for the day.

He narrowed his eyes in curiosity at his accomplice as she bustled by him to rush around the tables - tables that _he_ should have been tending, but he seemed to be lost in his own mind. She held a tray of hot pies in front of her with both of her flat palms, her breaths of fatigue masked by the seemingly welcoming smile she plastered on. She chattered away, too consumed in the role she was playing to notice his attraction to her.

He frowned and didn't take his eyes from her, mindlessly wiping down the table next him like it had been casual for him to randomly freeze in public. He was unaware that she was causing his stoic front to crack and show his true oddities, then again, he was lucky that the droves of customers were oblivious - the more intoxicated and _full_ they were, the better.

He watched intently, the flicker of desire briefly shone over his black eyes as the touch of a smirk played over his lips. She was handing out the batch of pies, rather than setting the tray down to let the customers grab their own - it was too busy to do the latter, and Sweeney knew that she was aware how... _problematic_ certain regular consumers had become. They tended to be more erratic, positively _feral._

Naturally, she had Mr Todd put them down _immediately_ with utmost discretion.

After all, crazed lunatics were bad for business.

Both Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with _them,_ of course. They were hell-bent with their corruption, but both of them were fully aware of what they were doing and had even _rationally_ planned their wicked scheme together...

Mr Todd's smirk widened.

He blindly took a few steps forwards, wiping over the other end of the table, so he didn't look like he was staying in the same spot.

The baker let out a forced laugh as a response to a customer and she turned, clutching the tray to her chest tightly as she headed back towards the door which led through to her shop. She still had that warm-looking smile on her face when she neared the door... but she made the mistake of trailing her brown eyes over the rest of the shop's yard...

She stopped dead in her tracks when she caught the diabolical barber smirking at her, the visible starvation in his eyes clear as day even though there was a good few tables of people between them.

Was he purposely ogling her? Purposely trying to rip her sweet mask from her face? She wasn't a nervous wreck like he had probably wanted her to be. Instead, her outgoing, friendly exterior was smeared over with thirsty eyes, drinking in the sight of him seeing as he was only wearing his thin shirt over his chest. She bit into her seductive smirk as she took the risk of winking at him...

His eyes grew at her fearlessness yet they were insatiable with hunger. Even more so when she hastily turned away and marched through the side-door.

He lowered his gaze, swallowing down his want. His thoughts consumed him once more as he realised that he hadn't once grimaced until then - since he was surrounded by all kinds of wretches and pests, he was slightly taken aback that he hadn't been focusing on his feelings of hatred towards them...

It seemed that his tempting _tease_ of an accomplice was the perfect distraction. He could cope when she was present with him. Now that she had disappeared into the shop he could feel the public's eyes on him, and how he _urged_ to scoop each eyeball out of each socket and pull them out entirely...

It hurt his pride not doing something about the lot of them. But he couldn't. The vermin were _untouchable_ in the public eye.

The itch of murder ate away at him, his blood boiling with the lack of it. He clenched his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he stood up from his action, actually hoping that Mrs Lovett would return shortly.

He didn't want to make another _mistake._

At that word, his eyes widened.

He already had made too many.

The mysterious person from the night prior still haunted him. He should have tackled them, pinned them down... slit open their belly. But he'd been too clouded with blood-lust and he'd been caught off-guard... most of the chase down the sewers was now a blur to him.

Had they _really_ tripped? Or had they _intended_ to fall to throw him off?

Nothing about them getting away from him added up.

_Something wasn't right._

He had expected that he and Eleanor would be in some dank cell by the early hours of Christmas morning, a noose around both of their necks by dawn...

Yet they were, carrying on with their sick little business like it was no problem.

Sweeney shouldn't haven't lied to her.

But he'd had to, the woman worried to the brink of a nervous breakdown and seeing her so confident and devious just proved that his lie had been a wise move.

He was torn away from his train of thought when the door sounded again. He knew it would be _her_ but shook his head and continued to clean up the emptied (and practically trashed) row of tables. He huffed and piled the plates on top of each other to clear the table's surface, his expression as vacant as the seats around him.

He started on wiping the surface, eyes boring into the ridges that had been cut into the wood. It was a peculiar feeling for him to be the one _cleaning up_ a mess, rather than the one making it.

He narrowed his eyes slightly when he sensed that someone had approached the other side of the table, but he kept silent and didn't stop what he was doing. His sense was confirmed when he felt heat emanating from them, even though they weren't so close to him.

It was only when thin, slender hands gripping a similar cloth to his wiped the opposite side of the table in a circular motion, brushing dangerously close to his own hand. He swallowed back the urge to growl and yank hold of her wrists - he wanted to pull her into him so he could devour her there and then, but his self-control centred him.

But then her short gasps of exhaustion from all the hours they'd worked forced him to take notice...

He looked up at her, yet didn't raise his head.

Her auburn hair hung in its messy fashion, though longer strands had slipped out of the pins to rest over her neck and collarbone. Her eyes were firmly on her actions, which were noticeably more efficient than his - seeing as he had frozen again due to the sight of her. Her actions also caused her to lean over slightly, her cleavage threatening to spill out of the tight bodice that it was bound inside. His eyes lingered there for a moment, and she was unaware of his blatant temptation to have her...

"Couldn't'a done t'day without ya, love." she said hoarsely, the hint of lethargy in her voice only adding to her unintentional allure. "I didn't even think I'd get ya down 'ere..."

He gave her a dark smirk, and like she could sense his actions, she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"You didn't think I'd say _'no'_ to a day where I'd watch the wretched eat their own kind, did you, Mrs Lovett?" he whispered in reply, her hand pausing and clawing into her cloth as he took the hand from his own to lace his fingers through hers. Her little gasps had grown heavier as he inched closer to her leaned in form, the table the only thing stopping them both from passionately pushing into each others bodies.

"I..." she breathed out onto his mouth, which was only a few inches from her. "I 'adn't thought 'bout it like that."

Their eyes drooped down as his other hand had found its way around her middle to settle on the base of her back, adding more than enough pressure to let her know that he desired her.

"It was wrong of you to ask me down here." he replied, equally as quiet but far more exaggerated like he was trying to mock her. "What _will_ your customers think?"

"Well, we _are_ 'avin' an _affair,_ Mr T!" she whispered more firmly, their noses brushing as he dipped his head lower. "They're gonna know 'ow much we want each other from - "

"We do? We _want_ each other?" he asked a little more loudly with feigned confusion - his raised voice was enough to attract the attention of the couple of customers behind him. "I thought that was a _cover,_ Mrs Lovett! You seriously don't think this is somethin' _else,_ do you?"

She scoffed back her rage and pushed his arm off her with her free hand, yet he still had her fingers pinned down to the table, ensuring she couldn't escape.

"Play your _part."_ he whispered in a sincere tone, his eyes full to the brim with want for her.

Eleanor scowled at him in confusion and sighed in disappointment, snatching up her hand as soon as his fingers loosened. The twitch of a smirk reached Sweeney's mouth as she stormed off, cloth and all. He could feel the eyes of the customers stabbing into him with intrigue, and that only made his amusement spread wider. He kept his back to them and was relieved when the burble of chatter returned.

He moved on to the next table which was situated directly outside the shop's windows. He peered at her through the glass and netting. She was already behind the counter, gaze instantly drawn to stare back at him even though her hands were busy at work. She gave him a subtle wink, telling him that she understood her role completely - and that's all it took for his arousal to become evident. He swallowed and pressed in close to the table, making sure no one was to notice him.

Clenching his jaw, he tore his eyes away from her, turning his head to face the street to his right now that the tables were clear.

At first, the street scene was just something for him to seem occupied as his hand pressed the rag into the table.

But his eyes widened as soon as a familiar shadowed shape of a small child, a small _boy,_ emerged in a hurry from the direction of Bell Court.

 _'The boy?'_ he thought to himself with a pang of annoyance. _'No, no, we can't have him coming back_ now. _Not at a time like_ this. _Not when everything is going so..._ well.'

 _'You mean not now that you shall have Eleanor Lovett to yourself?'_ the other side of him quipped and he physically stiffened at the thought, because he knew it was right... he couldn't deny how much he wanted to claim her as his own.

The barber's haunted gaze lingered over the shadow of the boy, which was lurking by the gaslight next to the passage. Sweeney knew exactly why the boy wasn't rushing over there all excited like usual - it was because _he_ was there.

 _Staring_.

 _Daring_ him to take one more step closer.

It was then that the leg of the boy started to take a step forward - but then it paused mid-air, the pale skin of his leg shining bright from the lamp above.

Sweeney frowned in confusion. But he couldn't look away.

His eyes widened significantly as the boy finally stepped into the light...

An arm snaked around the boy's throat, his body shaking violently as a hand pressed a handkerchief over his nose and mouth. The barber should have been concerned, but he found that he was glued to the spot with intrigue.

It wasn't long before the boy stopped struggling and fell back into the faint sillhouette's arms, and back into the indistinguishable shadows.

He should have been saving the boy, or at _least,_ rushing inside to tell Mrs Lovett what he'd just witnessed.

But he just turned his head away, his vacant expression returning as he quietly continued to clean.

He didn't care for the boy at all, and if Eleanor wasn't aware that he'd seen the lad, he was sure that there was no actual problem. After all, the boy's presence at a time like this would have only disrupted their desires for one another. To have him away from Fleet Street was a relief.

And that person that stopped the boy had been a God send.

Whether they were aware of it, or not.

Mr Todd was so lost in his thoughts that he failed to notice that Mrs Lovett had approached him - he wasn't even sure how much time had passed since he'd seen the boy being rendered unconscious... how long had he been in his thoughts? Why did the boy's absence unnerve him so much? Though it was convenient, it didn't stop him feeling confused and alarmed.

_"Mr T?"_

"What?" he replied, and as he flicked his eyes to her, he knew that look of disappointment all too well. She'd been talking to him about something she regarded as important, and no doubt, she'd be sure that he was off in his own world of vengeance and broken angels...

" 'Ave ya decided yet?!" she whispered firmly, her gaze leaving him for a moment as she neared him even more, checking that none of the customers were eavesdropping.

"Decided _what?"_

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't worry, I've only been 'ere talkin' at ya for nearin' on ten minutes now! _Tomorrow,_ Mr T. Will you be down 'ere seein' as it's our day off? I ain't repeatin' this 'gain."

He blinked at her and still didn't follow her train of thought, but nevertheless, he felt that he should give her an answer despite not having a clue what she was on about - not to mention _trapped_ with new burdens that invaded his mind.

"Yes." he answered in a spaced out tone. _"Of course."_


	17. Surrender

Eleanor Lovett had waited for him _all day._

She'd barely eaten anything. She'd planned on making a meal for him - something feast-like seeing as it was Boxing Day, but since he'd agreed to her proposal the day before in a round-about manner she wasn't going to get up and set to preparing a meal if he never intended to come down from his brooding quarters.

It wasn't until seven at night when she caught a sign of him.

She was sat in one of the booths inside her shop, tracing her finger around the rim of a shot-glass, looking into the empty tumbler with disappointment. Luckily, she'd had the sense to eat something once it had passed six, but that didn't stop the _true_ hunger she felt.

Her heart twinged as loud stomps of his feet from upstairs told her that he was _apparently_ alive. She gulped when she heard the tonsorial parlour's door slam - _he was heading down there_. She breathed out a shallow breath and sat up straight, smoothing out her skirts beneath the table. At the sound of his rushed footsteps on the stairs, she shuffled a small box into the centre of table, her hands then shaking as she snatched the gin bottle and filled up both glasses that she'd already set out on the table. She did this slowly, so at least she'd look busy once he entered.

The bell rang out and for once, he didn't allow the door to slam, he ensured it shut carefully - then dropped the latch. She wanted to turn around and curse at him for leaving her hanging all day, then again, she _was_ truly happy that he had actually turned up.

"Mrs Lovett." Sweeney greeted, emotionless, heading over to her without a moment's hesitation.

"Mr T," she addressed back casually, smiling towards him as he sat down opposite her, his eyes scrutinising her body language like she was some sort of deranged demon, or perhaps an unwelcome _alien._ "been enjoyin' y'day off?"

He ignored her hint - she knew that he'd been pining away upstairs all to himself. He was aware of what she was implying and instead, decided to throw her off by actually giving her a direct reply.

_"No."_

She looked taken aback at his answer and opened her mouth to comment but he'd taken his eyes from her.

He frowned down at the card box on the table in front of him, as if it was the most foreign object he'd seen in his life. For once, in a very, _very_ long time, Sweeney Todd felt a twinge of guilt.

She'd gifted him a present, and he hadn't even thought to give _her_ one.

The guilty glimmer was soon smeared over with disinterest as he flicked his dark eyes up to rest them on the baker sat opposite him. She was gazing so longingly at him, her chin rested on her palm as her elbow held her up against the table's surface.

"I didn't get you one." he replied as emptily as he could, although he'd practically given his guilt away with his words.

"Don't matter, love," she said in a small, sad voice. "Never get anythin' from anyone anyway. So there's no change there."

He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes as he slid the box to the side, out of his view for now.

"Where's the boy?" the barber suddenly asked, still avoiding her eyes by staring at the table. She blinked in confusion at him.

"Toby? I dunno, Mr T. Strange 'at a child don't come back 'ome at the chance o' gettin' Christmas presents, ain't it?" she replied with a sad laugh, her eyes shining with hope that he'd look back at her. Internally she was genuinely concerned about the lad - she just prayed that he was with someone better off than her, not down a ditch _dead_ somewhere...

 _"Home?"_ Sweeney sneered, boring his eyes at the splintering wood in front of his gaze. "I don't think 'e was 'ere long enough to count _this place_ as his _home,_ pet."

" 'Ow can you say that?" she whispered, her eyes filling up with a film of tears. "That boy was settled 'ere - "

"So _settled,_ that he hasn't returned." he shot back at her emptily, not daring to stare at her or the image of the boy being smothered would only return. "What _is it,_ Mrs Lovett? Were you expectin' him back this evenin'?"

"N-No."

"Then why do you dote over 'im? He's _used_ you Mrs Lovett. He's been gone _far_ too long for you to expect 'im back."

She swallowed back her annoyance at the cold hypocrisy spilling out of his mouth - he had no idea how long she'd waited for _him,_ clearly.

"S'pose you're right." she agreed in a stubborn tone, blinking away the urge to cry. She wasn't going to disagree and start an argument now, there was no point.

"Then it's to be just you and I tonight?" he whispered, his vacant tone audibly breaking slightly.

"Yes." she sighed out, looking towards the parlour for a moment at the thought of Toby, but it was only for a second or two before she returned to face the barber.

"You're _certain_ that the boy won't be joining us?"

"It'll be a bleedin' _miracle_ if 'e does." she finally accepted, a little irritated that he wouldn't stop reminding her of the young boy.

Sweeney's head lifted and his eyes suddenly darkened to match a tempting smirk on his lips. He flicked his gaze to settle on her, her own eyes faltering at the sight of him.

There was malicious intent in that gaze of his.

"Good," he replied shortly, in a huskier tone of voice - it was like his entire being was already sodden with aching anticipation. "he shan't be botherin' the two of us then."

Her eyes widened and she sat up to attention.

"Wot? W-Wot's that s-s'posed t'mean?" she spluttered out, her heart rate gradually speeding up as each split second passed by. She snatched her hands away from the table's surface to nervously wring them beneath it, all in order to ensure that her actions were out of his view.

"It's not _supposed_ to mean _anything,_ Mrs Lovett. I'm just sayin' it like it is."

She watched in intrigue as he began to stand up, with such a swift movement that he had practically glided over to her side of the booth. He bent down slightly so his mouth was right next to her ear.

"Christmas or not, the boy will not be permitted to be in _here_ for the rest of the night." he growled sternly, every syllable panting out over the skin of her ear.

She winced at his close proximity - it almost _hurt_ not being able to have the confidence to initiate what she urged to _desperately_ do to him...

" 'ang on a second there, Mr T... that ain't your decision!" she snapped back, her wince evolving into an irritated pout as the trace of a frown presented itself over her brows.

"Oh really?" he quipped with a sneer, his gaze dangerous though dark mirth filled his black eyes.

"Yes, _really._ Now c'mon, wot's got ya actin' all silly-like!" she shot back firmly, like she was unimpressed with him, when she was actually remarkably curious what had gotten into him.

"I disagree, Mrs Lovett. I think you'll soon come round to my... _viewpoint_ soon enough."

She scowled and turned her head towards him when he said this, faced with them burning eyes of his. Her mouth snapped shut midway through it opening, the look of bother she'd worn fading just as quickly as it had formed.

His mouth curled up into a smirk as she gave out a gasp of realisation.

"That was quicker than I'd anticipated, pet."

It was then that she felt the perspiration forming on her lower back, the palms of her hands clenching into nervous fists, the back of her throat suffering a drought - even when she swallowed the feeling of nervousness did not subside.

She understood _exactly_ what his sneaky intention was from his suggestive hint, and her body had already started reacting accordingly, knowing full well that she had waited _far_ too long for what she desired to do with him.

"Lord in 'eaven, Mr T! Ya 'aven't even opened 'at present I gave ya yet and you wanna be doin'... _that?!"_

The blush painted her cheeks as her heart pumped harder and louder, so loud in fact, that she thought it had somehow got sucked into her eardrums.

"Quite right you are, my love... You're wearin' _far_ too many layers for my liking. I should get to unwrappin' you right away."

Her eyes widened initially at his pet name for her, then her jaw dropped to match as another unexpected tease slithered out from his voice box.

"N-No... not _now,_ Mr T!" she exclaimed, brown eyes wide.

He bellowed out an exacerbated growl, causing her to involuntarily gasp out.

 _"Gah!_ If not now, _when?!_ We can't prolong the inevitable any longer, Mrs Lovett. _You_ know it. _I_ know it. And apparently the entire populus of London thinks we've already been _doing_ the inevitable."

Her brief blush from earlier spread wider to cover her entire face, her dress suddenly feeling far too tight around her as her breathing increased pace.

"B-But y'said that our _'affair'_ were only a _cover!"_

He smirked. He could tell that she was deliberately overplaying her part, acting as the _innocent little baker next door..._ Yet he saw in her eyes that she was _begging_ him to take her, the pleading look was enough for him to solidify his intentions.

"It was." he replied in a silky tone, finding that it was too amusing to not play along. "Yet why _deny_ what you desire now that we have an opportunity to fulfil said desire, without any interruptions whatsoever?"

Her eyes were unable to withhold the shine of temptation that blanketed over her chocolate irises.

"After all, _you_ want this more than _I_ do." he coaxed persuasively, those usually vacant eyes boiling with fiendish suggestion.

What a blatant _lie._

No matter how small his lies were, they were certainly starting to pile up... The lie that the person he'd attacked on Christmas Eve was nothing to worry about, the lie that he hadn't seen Toby for quite some time...

... the _enormous_ lie that he wasn't craving her so violently that it caused him to actually grow out of control...

_He wanted to have her just as much as she wanted to have him._

_"Oh!_ I see 'ow it is! Your _repayin'_ me?! _Is that it?!_ For movin' all those buggers until god-knows what 'our, rippin' 'em to smaller pieces just so they'll be more managable for the meat grinder?! I want you Mr T, I really do. But if y'think for one second that I am a common _whore,_ ya got another thing comin'!"

He bent down so that his face was right in front of her, and he frowned. His arms shot forward, snatching each side of her neck in a choke. As he squeezed, her veins pulsated erratically against his palms, her desperate attempt at breathing in transformed into a frail, pathetic wheeze.

 _"Whore?_ I don't think that you're a _whore,_ Mrs Lovett. You're _much_ worse than that. You're a... " He trailed off, eyes flicking away from her as she watched the mechanical cogs turning inside his head. She was starting to feel quite light-headed from the grip he had on her, and she was begging him telepathically to look back at her, to see the fearful concern beading in her eyes.

After a few more seconds, like he had received her message, his hands loosened and his gaze dropped to the floor.

"I-I'm a _wot,_ M-Mr T?" she croaked out, realising that he was too distracted to keep a death-hold on her.

 _"Temptress..."_ he murmured incoherently.

A _willing_ temptress she was. He presumed it was only befitting for a impulsive demon like him. Perhaps they were a match bound for hell? That thought alone forced him to clench his fists around her neck and hold back a smirk.

She flinched when he looked back at her.

"What do I 'ave to say, Mrs Lovett? To get you to understand?"

"Understand _wot?!"_

He sighed and looked away from her in annoyance but soon pulled himself together and returned her gaze. It seemed he was going to have to be blunt with her.

"Well, with all of these vicious _rumours_ that 'ave been floatin' around, we may as well prove 'em right, hadn't we?"

She thought she'd already put him off the idea of them doing such a thing before, she didn't want to confront her inner feelings again... it had been manageable to resist him other times, but seeing as it _was_ a memorable occasion, it was almost impossible to deny him...

She could already feel her own body responding to every little thing about him. Due to the ripples of hotness showering through her, she was already beginning to agree with him...

She gasped over-dramatically, "Ya not sayin' that ya wanna do _that?! Now - ?"_

"Yes. I am. _So_. Very. _Much."_ he ground out, his teeth clenched just like he wished he could do with his fists even more as he seared his eyes into her, causing her to bite her lip to stop herself from emitting a love-stricken moan. She didn't want to appear _pathetic_ in front of him, she was sure that was the last thing a dominant man like him would want from her.

Her thoughts were getting carried away, and her lip biting didn't stop her mouth from allowing anything she thought to be expelled at that point.

"O-Oh. Well I woulda thought 'at it woulda been at a later date... o-or in another circumstance..." she replied in a casual manner, like they were talking business, rather than _pleasure._

 _"What?!_ Well what did you _expect,_ Mrs Lovett? A _timetable?!_ What is it that you _want_ from me? For me to tell you how much I _need_ you?! How much I _long_ for you?! How much I - ?!" Her heart raced ten-to-the-dozen even though it was anger-induced words he was spitting at her and she finally felt that the bubbling warmth had reached the place between her legs.

He noticed the effect he was having on her - the droopy eyed, dreamy look she wore made him pause to swallow. It seemed in their times of annoyance or anger, the atmosphere would soon turn to one of lust, there always seemed to be an underlying sensual connection in any extreme situations that arose between them.

"How much ya wot?" she breathed, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Her intoxicated eyes searched his, which were lit with flickering black flames.

"How much I want to _have_ you."

His arms receded from the sides of her neck, but only to press down on her shoulders in order to force her body to turn around to fully face him. Like a theatrical curtain, their lust veiled down to cloud both pairs of tainted eyes **.** Neither of them questioned whether it was anything more for their impudent lust was enough to confirm what they were set on doing.

They needed to seize this moment whilst they could.

"Per'aps," Eleanor breathed lowly, gulping down another pleased groan threatening to push out of her. "y'could tell me that now?"

"Of course not." Sweeney replied, his tone monotonous but it certainly wasn't because he was away in his own thoughts of revenge...

 _"Why?"_ she pleaded out, her eyes shimmering with droplets of disappointment, luckily ones she was able to hold back.

" 'Cause you expect that from me, pet." he remarked with a half-sneer, subtly shuffling his feet forwards.

"Then wot don't I _expect?"_ she asked in an annoyed manner, a touch of a frown gracing her brow - his apparent _omniscience_ was beginning to grate on her nerves.

_He was sick of waiting._

He launched forwards towards her and placed his mouth to her. He attacked her lips, pushing her frame back so he was already able to gain control of her by being above. She continued willingly, sinking backwards as she brayed back at him until she was laid out over the wooden seat. Their mouths still worked against one another, even as he placed himself over her completely - so much so that she could feel the heart in his chest pounding just as rapidly as hers.

So he _was_ alive after all.

She broke away for a moment, but he wanted more. His eager mouth flew to her neck, sucking her skin with impatient enthusiasm.

"Now?" she asked him in a vacant, small voice. The question was actually more aimed at _herself_ \- it was like she couldn't believe what was happening. He tore away from her, not bothering to answer her with words - he stripped off his jacket, chucking it carelessly over his shoulder. From this it was evident that he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer this time.

 _"Here?"_ she said louder, in a shrill tone, like she was trying to stall their intimacy further.

In truth, she was.

What if she wasn't good enough for him? It was clear that all he wanted from her was sex. If she wasn't good enough, what would the two of them be to each other then? Just tenant and landlady? Just murderer and accomplice? And it wasn't like he wanted to spend evenings chatting or getting to know the ins and outs of her... then again, perhaps he _did_ technically want to do the _latter..._

He smirked at the thoughtful expression passing over her features.

"Yes, pet. _Unless..."_

He narrowed his eyes and eyed towards the parlour.

"... there's somewhere else... you'd prefer to go?"

 _Hell_ would have been suffice for Sweeney at this point. He was desperate to fuck her. His fantasies about her had gone on for far, _far_ too long. He could finally put his lust to rest, there's no way he'd want more after tasting her just that once.

_What an underestimating man he was._

"Y'mean l-like me room? It'll be _freezin'_ in there though - "

"No matter - " He pulled her up forcably by her forearms, rushing them towards the parlour like the whole place was alight with flames. "- we'll warm up soon enough."

She hated the fact that she loved the way he was so rough with her, the way he was tugging her towards her room violently made her want to moan out. Even if it was an egotistical release that drove him, the fact he wanted _her_ to help, and the fact he was so desperately passionate about having her to himself - those thoughts alone caused something to seep out of her.

He was not gentle with her.

He was certainly not _romantic._

And this made it different.

Made it _fascinating._

Before she knew it, they were in the pitch darkness of her room. She loitered by the doorframe and he sighed in frustration, using his palms to shove her out of the way. She yelped and moved out of his space, eyeing him with a mixture of annoyance and attraction. He kicked the door closed, turning on his heels before it slammed shut next to her, the wall visibly shaking.

He pottered about her room, messing around with something that he'd pulled out of his trouser pocket. The sound of a match striking caught her attention, and he held the single burning flame before his eyes, which happened to give his face an eerie glow. Wordlessly, he located the candles around her room, lighting the wicks one by one - she noticed that his usually steady hand was ridiculously wobbly so it seemed to take a lot longer than it should have.

She dared not move... she wasn't exactly _well experienced_ with the art of seduction, despite being more than confident in giving the barber tempting hints every time she could.

"Lay on the bed." he ordered, still in the middle of lighting a candelabra situated next to her wardrobe. His gaze was focused on his actions for the time being... though from his crotch it was clear that he hadn't forgotten about her.

She stood still, her eyes faltering with disbelief now that her own arousal finally hit her.

 _'It's 'appenin'! It's real.'_ she told herself, looking rather dazed as she stared at the back of him... even from _behind_ the man was so damned _attractive..._

Everything was hitting her all at once...

 _"Lay on the bed I say!"_ Sweeney near yelled, glaring at her from his place by the half-lit candelabra.

Eleanor obeyed him instantaneously, but her nonchalance infuriated him. He finished lighting the few candles and hurriedly shook out the match, turning around to march over to her. She swivelled around to face him and jumped out of her skin when her eyes met with him only a few centimetres from her. He darted towards her, causing her to start backwards. The back of her calves hit the side of the bed, forcing her to pause and stare back at the barber's devilish eyes, only hypnotising her further.

She swore she heard him lightly groan as his palms lashed out and pushed her the rest of the way down so that her spine collided with the mattress.

He removed his waistcoat and fastenings with his trembling hands as he looked at her sprawled out over the bed for him. He tossed the clothes over his head, and they landed somewhere across the floor behind him.

Her heart pounded faster as he popped open a couple of his shirt's buttons, causing him to show her a slice of his chest's pale white skin. Her eyes trailed down to settle on his lower abdomen...

Her eyes soon became concerned as they flicked down lower to glare at the holster on his belt, and he knew what had caused that building fear in her eyes.

"Don't worry about that. That will go in a minute. You're first priority. Look at you, you can barely _breathe,_ woman." he teased with feigned concern, her eyes studying the thin shirt over his torso. It didn't seem like he noticed that her struggles for breath were more because of what _he_ was doing - usually her lungs could cope within the constraints of her corset. Now that he was intending to pleasure her, the undergarment was beginning to feel uncomfortable and restrictive.

He shoved her so that she rolled over, impatiently clawing at the fastenings that unlocked her dress and skirts. He pulled them down fiercely, the rustling sound as they dropped to the floorboards causing her to shiver. Her face was tilted to the side as he turned her back over to press over her and the bed with his open palms. Her legs were now only clad in her stockings and bloomers, her torso only in her bodice...

 _"God..."_ he whispered with awe as he took her in, but it wasn't quite hidden from her ears. She'd heard his pleasant surprise.

_"Mr T?"_

She gasped, feeling firm, audacious hands and... something else dragging over the front of her in all different directions.

She let out a muffled moan.

"You want me, _don't you?"_ he growled, lifting each of her legs up, one by one, in order to slide off her boots.

 _"Yes!"_ she cried out thoughtlessly, feeling him already peeling down one of her stockings.

"For how long have you wanted me?"

 _"Years!_ Too many to bleedin' count..." she puffed out, lying limp at his torturous feather-light touch, the boiling anticipation seemed to make her blatantly honest. He, quite literally, had her in the palm of his hand.

He emitted the sexiest sounding low chuckle that she'd ever heard in her life. It was something so arousing that it made her body pleasantly shiver.

And he noticed.

"Y'know, I thought you would have disappointed me, Mrs Lovett."

Her eyes saddened at his words as another stocking peeled away from her, her love for him bubbling up again. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her half-bare legs.

"But you always find somethin' else to surprise me with... "

His hands ran up the length of her legs, stopping once he reached her thighs. He firmly massaged her there on an impulse, raising a brow once he realised that she had sat up slightly in order to start on her corset's laces. He smirked and took his hands from her to shrug his shirt off over his head. He threw that over his shoulder too, kicking off his own shoes.

He unthreaded his belt from his trousers, tossing it aside to hover over her - it seemed that the razor attatched to the belt had become a meaningless detail.

His eyes set hers alight like wood against flint, his body lightly brushing over her as he poised his mouth over hers. The odd strand of jet hair fell out from its usual place, only causing him to appear even more enticing. He never blinked as his hands found their way around her to join her own in yanking at the laces of her bodice. He grew impatient and hungrily tore away at them, their mouths' skin grazing. The corset fell away from her front, his hands wrapping around her wrists tightly to pin her arms by her sides.

He didn't want her holding onto the damn thing like last time.

He sunk down her body, teeth biting around the hem of her corset to toss the clothing across the room. His head turned back to face her, his eyes widening at the sight of her exposed breasts. He instantly released her arms and grabbed her bosom, nipping at her neck. She squirmed excitedly beneath him, her head reeling from the sensations he was causing.

He hummed against her skin as he dropped away from her throat to suck at her breasts, her hands managing to reach down to unbotton his trousers. He moaned in appreciation as he moved further up for her hand to brush down the lump in his shorts beneath. She let out a gasp before he pushed his mouth to her again, one of his hands going rogue to finger the waistband of her bloomers.

They moaned in unison as she forcefully tugged his trousers down, along with his undershorts, her hand stroking over his bare skin.

He left her lips to breathe out harshly.

He shuffled the clothing off him, his other hand joining the one on her waistband, scraping the bloomers down her legs. Blush reached her cheeks as his eyes widened again at the sight of her - she was hyperventilating as he studied her form quietly, tilting his head to the side with desire. His brows lifted as he crawled over her, his eyes squarely on hers - despite the fact he wanted to observe her naked form in more detail... but there was time for _that_ yet...

He pressed a strangely soft kiss to her lips, holding himself over her with his arms.

"You could _never_ disappoint me..." he murmured breathily against her mouth, her heart convulsing so much at his words that she thought it might just explode...

They pressed their mouths into each others again, but this time thirstily, as if they were feasting on one another... tasting whether they were feeling the same emotions, the same _thrill_ of the inappropriate activity they were participating in.

Her legs parted and he slid himself down over her slightly, but not enough for them to part their kiss. It had been years since he'd been intimate with anyone. At _least_ fifteen. And there he was, feeling a rush of everything in an instant. His thoughts of murder vanished, the thrill of killing was practically an _entrée_ compared to what he was feeling then. The _intimacy,_ the _searing lust_ \- the _urge_ to keep going, to keep _feeling,_ to keep being intoxicated with the way she reacted to him.

He _craved_ Mrs Lovett.

He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to _tease_ her - the anticipation was killing him. He let out a throaty growl as he'd reached his desired position, hovering by the place between her legs, brushing over her with his length... she moaned with enjoyment into his mouth, arms gripping around him fiercely - it was like she thought that by clinging onto him, he'd know not to stop or leave her body.

But she didn't have to do such a thing. He wasn't going to stop himself now.

He wanted to show her what he was feeling.

He wanted to rip her to shreds, but only so he could put her back together again. He wanted to strangle her, but not to the point of killing her. His fantasies had only grown stronger.

He was _fixated_ on her.

Her brown eyes flickered away from his face for a second to glance down at him, her teeth lightly biting into her bottom lip. She gasped at the sight of him and he shoved her backwards into the pillows, closing in on her again, his mouth loitering by her ear.

"Let me fuck you."

Their gazes connected again at his raspy whispers, her eyes filled with surprise and adoration, whilst his were starving over her, sniffing out her every detail.

"Put me inside you."

Her hands blindly reached down and gripped around him tightly, with confidence she didn't even know was inside of her. But lust was driving her now. She was experiencing something she was _never_ going to forget.

She continued to obey him, and carefully spread her legs, guiding him towards her opening.

He never looked down to check her actions, only looked back at her with hooded eyes. Breaths pumped unevenly out of him as he sensed he was nearing her, instead, she took a breath _in._

And then, he was inside her. Feeling her spread out for him even more, her little whimpers indicating that she was slightly uncomfortable but her eyes told him she was capable of coping - she was waiting for what was about to come next. The feel of her was incredible, and of course, although he was stabbing himself into her, she was finding that he was gradually... growing on her.

Her arms wrapped around him so that her palms rested over his shoulder blades. She applied pressure, secretly telling him that he could be as firm as he liked with her.

"Ah, uh..." he grunted, arms locking his position firmly in place on the mattress by her sides.

The two of them exhaled in unison as he pulled out of her, but only so he could slide all the way back in. He thrusted into her at a steady pace, not too fast, not too slow - part of him urged that he was to go faster, but he wanted to keep himself controlled. The last thing he wanted to do was to melt and lose himself in her completely - even when the two of them were wrapped up with each other it seemed that he wanted the upper hand.

Unlike Eleanor, who let the honest emotions consume her completely, her thoughts and utterings becoming one. With each thrust into her, the bare skin of his chest brushed against hers, her throat on display as she tipped her head back in ecstasy. Their eyes closed with the pleasure they passed between each other, their bodies never ceasing to react to each slightest feeling.

He couldn't take withholding the quick pace any longer and immediately paused to angle himself more sharply inside her, instantly driving into her at a much rougher rate.

"Ohhh _Sweeney..._ I love you. I love you. _I love you."_ she gasped under her erratic breaths, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as if asking him to go deeper.

He'd expected her to say that. It should have put him off for god's sake. But it didn't, it made him push harder into her, seemingly effortlessly, closing his eyes as he felt wave after wave of pleasure ripple through himself.

 _"God,_ how can you be so..." he trailed off, grunting some more instead of completing his sentence - his thoughts vanished now that he was finally completely surrounded by the scent of her.

"Turn over!" he near yelled as he pulled all of the way out of her again, causing her to let out a loud groan this time. She slowly went to do as he asked, but he was impatient and ruthlessly grasped the sides of her ribs to violently spin her around, holding her flat over the covers.

She yelped in pleasured pain into her bed-covers as he callously took her from behind. She could feel his breaths as they coated the line of her spine, soon being followed by wet kisses and teasing nips from his teeth. Her noises grew in volume as he reached an arm down and around her, his fingers toying with the front of her.

"Mmm _Sweeeeneeey..."_ she groaned out, her words muffled from the covers. He let out a harsher grunt in response and his hand ceased playing with her in order to slide up her abdomen. He paused his actions so that he could lift her away from her flat position, on a whim it seemed he'd decided to try something off the top of his head. He held her up so that she was slightly vertical, his arms linking to hold her beneath her breasts as he forcefully pumped himself back into her.

"Oh! Oh! _Ohhhh..."_ she screamed out, eyes flashing open at the unruly delight filling her up entirely.

He paused everything to catch his breath, smirking cruelly when she emitted a moan of disappointment.

"Could you be any _louder_ , Mrs Lovett? You'll end up wakin' the _neighbours_." he growled, passion-laced amusement present in his harsh tone.

She smirked too, not that he could see. She struggled against his hold and managed to fall forwards slightly. She chuckled and bent her elbows over the covers so that she tilted her back end up in the air. He growled quietly and grappled a hand onto each of her cheeks, and she gave out a squeak of surprise. Strangely her actions drove him to push even firmer and deeper into her this time.

He breathed out a stifled wheeze of air.

"G-God..."

He'd never done anything so animalistic like _this_ before. He'd never fucked for _pleasure_ before, then again, he had never _desired_ anyone so strongly in his life. The fact he hadn't killed anyone for a while didn't help either. What he felt in that moment was suddenly a lot more pleasurable than he had thought beforehand.

He kept on going, panting loudly as her cries raised in volume. He opened his eyes for a second, watching her in drunken awe - her body was still slightly vertical, her pale spine curving beautifully in front of him with each push into her. She tilted her head backwards even more - instantly they caught each others gazes. Her face was framed by stray red locks falling from the pins in her hair, more and more strands escaping with each of his powerful thrusts.

If he had been _disgusted..._

If he had been _annoyed..._

If he had been _uninterested..._

Then why was he enjoying this? The way he was being intimate with her made him question himself. He hadn't thought that he'd crave _more_ of her. Yet there he was, wanting to know more about her, to discover what she truly wanted from him. He could clearly see that she loved his callousness, his firm courage - there was no hesitation in his movements, and she would always find that she had no way of hiding her reactions.

He admired that about her. For once, nothing was masked. Everything that she felt could be heard in her screams of pleasure.

His actions sped up significantly, his perspiration dripping onto her back as his hands roughly gripped handfuls of her auburn hair, causing her to push her back-end up into him firmly. He finally gave into the desire coursing through his veins and growled loudly, and fucked her deeper than ever. They groaned out in unison, his legs starting to shake with the anticipation of finishing.

She too felt her release nearing, catching a glimpse of his blissful expression as she chanced a glance behind her. And that look on his face was what tipped her over the edge. She tightened around him, her loud moans of pleasure raising in pitch as he continued to thrust swiftly into her. She clawed into the covers beneath her as she finally gave one last powerful squeeze around him, letting out a high-pitched gasp of relief.

It was seconds later that he too met his end, each hand clenching around bunches of her hair as he groaned out lowly, hotly filling up her insides.

He collapsed onto the back of her, the two of them panting excessively as sweat coated their pallid skin. Even then, breathing out in exhaustion, the atmosphere was somewhat carnal. He eventually rolled away from her and laid flat on his back on the free part of mattress next to her. They breathed in silence for a few seconds, and for one moment, Eleanor thought that he was ignoring her. Her feeling of rejection soon disappeared however, when he turned onto his side, eyes drawn to her heaving breasts. They soon trailed up to meet her gaze. Without a word, he took her chin in between his thumb and pointing finger, forcing his mouth over hers.

She melted to his touch and kissed back, internally unsure of what this meant. With the _unbelievable_ encounter they both had, where did this take them? What were they to one another now?

She laid her palms flat over the top of his torso, leaning into the kiss. She couldn't get enough of him - even now when she had completed what she had set out to do, she craved more of him. She didn't want this to be the end of their desires, and she sensed that he felt the same... or that's what she hoped. It sure as hell wasn't _love_ that they'd just made, but she didn't care. The feel of the two of them coming together for her was a milestone in itself.

Sweeney pulled away from her lips and shuffled her so that she half-laid over him, her leg entwining around his.

"Finally," he whispered, smirking as that diabolical glint of mirth gleamed in his black irises at her. "a bit of peace and _quiet."_

She let out a dirty chuckle and was thankful that he'd said something - it confirmed what she'd sensed.

_He wanted more._

He sighed and tipped his head back against her pillows, his body still emitting immense heat as his eyes closed.

"I can't wait to get out of this place." he murmured, and she frowned in confusion, laying her head against his chest, his heart still pounding in recovery of what they'd just done.

For once Eleanor was speechless as she was unsure of what he meant, and instead closed her eyes too, recalling what had just happened not a few minutes before.

"I love you..." she whispered against his chest, knowing that there was no way he would say it back to her.

Her tension eased as she felt him leave a kiss on her forehead, her body going limp over him. It was obvious that he hadn't intended to do such a thing for he frowned at himself and took his face further away from her.

"Goodnight, Eleanor."

She smiled, knowing that he'd at least be smirking too.

"G'night, Sweeney."


	18. What Are We?

_**Christmas Day, Evening** _

Slender arms reached forwards as the shadowed figure approached Toby, their movements deadly silent as they practically glided over the cobbles.

A silky handkerchief shoved itself over his face and blocked the boy's nostrils, and it soon enveloped over his mouth too. He had no choice but to breathe in the almost sweet scent from the cloth and he felt his vision fading into black instantaneously. His body collapsed limply as he felt himself falling down into a deep, sleep-like state.

Thin, black-stained fingers pressed the material further in to ensure that the lad really _was_ unconscious and the figure huffed in annoyance, catching Toby as he fell back.

They threaded their arms beneath his armpits to hoist him upwards. They let out a hiss of pain as they carefully draped the boy's body over their shoulder. The barber's incision from the night prior was still quite fresh, and the black threads hung from the torn fabric of their coat where the gash was bound snugly underneath.

The silhouette's eyes slashed through the darkness as they glanced back towards 186 Fleet Street, greyish blue irises glistening with grim intent as they realised the barber was stood in the courtyard, observing the scene taking place - completely frozen with shock. A smirk reached their pouting lips - the man was powerless to do anything. He was a murderer who worked in the privacy of his own parlour, therefore he wouldn't _dare_ do anything out of the ordinary out in public. He had an _appearance_ to keep up.

The young woman knew this all too well about him, and took her time in vacating the area. She was not too _subtle_ about being nonchalant, reaching her free arm up to even ensure that her stovepipe hat was sat atop her head in her desired fashion - which was always pulled forwards, in order for the brim of the hat to shade over her eye-line, keeping the gaslights' glow out of her eyes.

With one last daring glance towards Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, she jolted around from the direction she came and scarpered into the passage leading to Bell Court.

She carried the boy with little effort, though she had a slight limp in her left leg - yet another after effect from Mr Todd's attack. She hadn't anticipated him chasing her that night, yet she was glad he did, for she realised that the man had more potential than she'd previously thought.

_Keeping the boy away had certainly been a successful endeavour._

_In more ways than one._

She kept her head down, inky fingers clutching the brim of her hat as her opposite arm tightened its grip around the boy.

The streets of London were still fairly busy, but the alleyways were the real places that truly bustled with life at night. As the woman passed by the many thieving night dwellers who roamed the snickets, not one of them approached her, instead they eyed her in quiet suspicion.

It wasn't usual for such a sight to be seen, even during the night.

Steam seared up from each open drain that she passed, and she held her breath, upping her pace as much as she could when she came to a corner of a building. She turned the corner, only to enter another narrowed pathway, delving further and further into the rabbit warren where each alley was squeezed in amongst the slums.

Passing brickwork after brickwork, she went into an almost trance-like state, like she did such a trip on a daily basis. She was set on her destination, wherever that was.

After quite some time - it must have been nearer to the _hour_ \- the effects of the sedative that Toby had inhaled, were beginning to wear off.

The boy's eyes slowly cracked open, the rushing patterns of condensation over cobbles and stone slabs causing his head to reel even more. He winced at the the pain scrunched around his skull, the skeletal hand kneading into his brain to cause a tremendous ache. At first, he wondered how he was moving so hastily. Then he realised that his legs weren't moving at all - instead, that he was being _carried._

It was then that his squinted chestnut eyes widened in fearful concern.

 _"Off!"_ he squealed out as he kicked his little legs against the woman's back. The loitering criminals of the alleys watched with intrigue - although not one of them seemed courageous enough to intervene. The reason for that was unclear. Had it been _someone else_ carrying the child, would they have reacted to the situation differently?

 _"Get off me!"_ he screamed desperately, tears streaming down his face as he thrashed against her. His fingers latched around her ribs, where his grimy nails sunk through the tattered material of her coat, and into the skin and bone beneath.

The young woman growled out in irritation at his pitiful attempt at hurting her, and came to an abrupt halt.

Toby's struggles for escape ceased, and confusion mixed into his terror, his little heart audible to the woman's ears.

She inhaled deeply and lifted up her free arm, bending it at the elbow as soon as it was propelled up into the air...

... and it soon fell back down.

Her blunt elbow collided with the side of the boy's temple with a dense blow, knocking him out completely. His head tossed to the side with the motion, his stringy light brown hair hanging over his face as his body drooped lowly over her shoulder.

The next time Toby was at least _partly_ coherent, was quite a few hours later. He had no sense of time as he reluctantly opened his eyes, his heart already pelting from the brief memory of the injury to his head...

He came to his senses a bit more after a few seconds, yet his vision and comprehension of his surroundings was blurred. He was laid out flat, over some sort of cold table... or desk. He couldn't tell exactly, nor was he concerned about which it was, considering that his head was spinning frantically. He tilted his head to the side, his cheek meeting with the cold surface underneath him. Though he was completely disorientated, he could make out faint outlines of various jars and potion bottles directly in front of where his eyes had ended up facing.

 _"W-Wh... "_ he attempted to phrase out, but his voice-box pushed out nothing but air, and even whispering seemed like too much of an effort for him. The pain was his focus, the rest of his body was seemingly shutting down - or at the very least, becoming exceedingly _numb._

He closed his eyes for a moment and he felt a warm tear trickle down his cheek, his breathing evenly spaced despite his distress.

When he opened his eyes again, he gasped then wheezed out a dry whimper, his eyelids shutting as tears flooded from his tear ducts due to his fear.

He'd seen a glimpse of wide, curious grey eyes, peering straight into his soul, circled with what appeared to be soot - though he could have sworn there were bruises over her eyelids too. He continued to cry, though his throat managed to find the energy for him to start wailing incomprehensibly, in hopes that someone nearby would hear him and rush in to save him.

When he felt the coldness of her face nearing his, and then smelled the breath scented with something reminiscent of _chemicals,_ he began to loudly shriek, his lungs never pausing to receive more air.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, knowing that if he opened them, those icy, scrutinising eyes would be glaring straight back at him.

He didn't understand _anything._

Why couldn't he move anything below his neck?! What did the woman want with him?! _Who was she?!_ Why did she not cease to torment him?!

Right then, Toby wished that Mrs Lovett was there.

He prayed to God, that Mr Todd had _at least_ ran inside the shop and told her that he'd seen him being taken. The poor lad remembered the ashen colour Mr Todd had gone, even paler than he was usually, if that were possible.

 _Hell,_ he'd have even settled for _Mr Todd_ snatching him away out of the frightening ordeal at that point.

"You are _not_ to go to Fleet Street again, unless you're accompanied by _me."_ A voice suddenly bellowed with sincerity, though something about the tone and sound was warped, causing him to shudder and suck in an enormous breath of air. "Is that understood?"

His bottom lip trembled and he whimpered, his tears still streaming down his face.

He weakly nodded.

He sensed them moving away, out of his proximity completely - this was only confirmed when their footsteps echoed about whatever _hell hole_ they were located in...

But he knew that wouldn't be the last of the woman.

His nightmares had only just begun.

Or so he thought.

* * *

Sleep had never been something that Sweeney Todd had ever been good at.

The fulfilled desire and passion he'd felt concerning Eleanor Lovett was at the heart of his nightmares that night, and he'd tossed and turned, breathing hard... but the fact he'd even closed his eyes without jolting himself awake was something new to him. Habitually he would force himself to pace until the small hours, hell-bent on focusing on his vengeful thoughts.

But much to his dismay, having his accomplice entwined with him all night had brought him some comfort. Every now and again, whenever something particularly horrific had triggered him to whimper or near-yell out, he'd felt the embrace of her warm arms around him, and they'd carted him away into a dream-limbo for a while. He'd then quietened down and his breathing had slowed, and she often had cautiously stayed there a while... sometimes she'd even rested her forehead against his bare back, hoping to at least give him some kind of comfort in his dreams.

He was the first to awaken that morning, however, taking a deep breath in... a frown of bewilderment on his face even before his eyes opened. He wasn't used to the feel of a thick mattress beneath him... nor was he used to the fact that he'd slept fully naked with his landlady's body pressed into the back of him... although, it seemed that he was already desiring her again, whether he wanted to or not.

He huffed out a sigh and brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes when the memories of their carnal activity the night prior hit him all at once. He clenched his teeth in annoyance as he felt her nose nuzzling against the skin of his back, her lips brushing against him too as a consequence, causing the most relaxing sensation to shudder through his body.

 _"Fuck."_ he muttered beneath his breath, his hand shielding his eyes, like he was shading himself from the shame he felt as more and more memories of them both becoming one flew into his mind.

He thought himself stupid. _Selfish._ Selfish for wasting away a night where he could have been _planning,_ biding his time. Yet instead, he'd spent it with Eleanor...

He regretted not leaving her room as soon as the two of them had done the deed.

He couldn't _stand_ the sick feeling that he felt now... he felt _disgusted._ But not with her... with himself. He didn't love the woman, and he'd given himself to her _plainly_ \- just as much as she'd given herself to him. He'd promised himself to just have a _taste_ of her, and then be done with her...

But he couldn't leave her side.

Even then, as the nauseous feeling grew worse, he dared not move a muscle in fear of waking her. He didn't know what she expected of him now. It was clear that their passionate night had affected him greatly.

Not bearing to stare at the bedroom wall any longer, he batted her away from his skin in order that he could turn to face her.

All thoughts of regret vanished in the instant that he observed her snoring away. She was completely vulnerable next to him, head tilted over the bed pillows, auburn hair sprawled out behind her in a scattered mess. His black eyes trailed over her jawline, following the trail of skin down to her neck, then to her rising and falling chest, the covers tightly hiding her breasts from him.

It was like a curtain had been drawn over his better judgement as soon as he'd seen her sleeping. All he wanted to do was see her writhing in pleasure again, feel himself inside her again...

He swallowed, closing his eyes as the lust pumped through his veins violently.

Without another thought he winced and rolled over, hastily swivelling out from under the covers. He paused for a moment, sitting with his legs hanging over the edge of her bed. He shaded his eyes with his hand again, like even the darkness of her room was too bright.

He just sat there for a moment. All variations of thoughts coming over him. _Confusing_ him.

He didn't know how to feel.

 _Guilty?_ He _ought_ to be, considering he still adored, and very much _loved_ his late wife enough to _kill_ for her, even now that she was long gone. Yet not even his love for a dead woman had been enough to stop him from taking Eleanor.

 _Stupid?_ He _should_ have, considering he'd just slept with his neighbourly landlady, who was also his co-conspirator and accomplice to countless murders.

 _Certain?_ He _shouldn't_ have, but it was clear as day to him then, that he and Eleanor were something _more_ now. What they had together was definitely a torrid affair. But it was an affair than not even _he_ wanted to stop.

Staring into the darkness ahead made him realise that they had only delved further into their own sinful ways. Their deviousness, determination and malicious ways had combined into one feeling the night prior... both mentally and physically. The blackness had crept up around them with ease, to _trap_ them with one another.

It was keeping him there with her, even then.

He suddenly frowned and shook his head, laying back over the bed like he had been before.

He couldn't leave her. _The shadows wouldn't let him._

Sweeney studied her again, but he lightly traced his fingertips over her cheek this time, his thoughtful frown deepening as he wondered what had made him do such a thing.

More guilt swept through him as he recalled the lies he'd told, or rather, the hell of a lot of _important_ things he'd left unsaid. He should have told her.

_He shouldn't have lied..._

He inhaled deeply, eyes filled with all the sorrows of a tortured soul as he brought his forehead down to rest against hers. At the touch of his skin, and the breath over her face, she woke immediately.

She let out a hushed sigh of contentment at his contact, though she was internally surprised at his actions. He frowned and took his face away from her, his eyes slightly saddened as he looked upon her closed eyes, awaiting the sight of her chocolate irises.

As soon as her eyelids cracked open, desire replaced his guilt and he took his hand from the side of her cheek, fearing he'd clench it against her. They stayed silent as they stared at each other, the gleams in their eyes trying to process whether the other's presence was actually real or not.

Eleanor was dying to say something, but she knew that the silence between them both was almost sacred. It told them both more than they realised.

Sweeney neared his face to her again, his hand returning to her face too, in order to grasp her chin lightly this time.

 _"I have to leave."_ he whispered in an almost disappointed tone, his expression sincere though she could see the true want for her ablaze in his black orbs.

She gasped out and pushed his hand from her, suddenly throwing the covers off her slightly to sit up, appearing to have all the energy in the world. He gaped at her due to the fact he didn't know where to look now that her torso was completely exposed, but also due to her broken heart that he could plainly see shattering right before his eyes.

" _No!_ No you _don't!_ P-Please, w-why would ya - "

"This was a mistake. This cannot happen again." he cut her off, his voice so soft that his words hurt twice as much.

"That don't mean 'at it won't 'appen, though. Like ya said 'fore, you wanted me just as much as I wanted _you."_ she pleaded with him, that undeniable longing in her eyes almost persuading him to stay put. _"Please don't go."_

He frowned at her, thoughts still racing around in circles within his mind.

He hesitantly leaned towards her, then afterwards, he confidently cupped her face with his hands. His face neared hers, her eyes desperately searching his, reaching out to at least try and understand what she was to him.

With the feeling of his lips firmly pressing into hers, their eyes shut, the sensation causing her to relax... and him to freeze. She continued to fearlessly kiss him, trying to push away the sad fact that he was no longer returning her actions. Her eyes squeezed and a hurt whimper escaped her as she continued to kiss him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

 _'Love me.'_ her mind begged him, her whole being becoming a shaky wreck as she felt him already pulling away. _'Lovemelovemelove...'_ The words repeated over and over... but it was too late. His hands on her chin had vanished, and instead tightly wrapped around her wrists so that he could shove her away from himself.

She sobbed out, shamelessly letting the tears trickle down her cheeks, down her neck, down her collarbone...

He held her arms by her sides, his usual cold, hard stare framed by his frown as he glared into her now open, puffy eyes. "That's not what we are." he said through gritted teeth, though the true annoyance and rage he felt, was really caused by himself.

_He had no idea what they were._

He was torn about how he felt about her.

She broke down at his words, her head dipping as she cried harder. He snatched his hands away from her wrists and rotated around so that he sat on the edge of the bed, already shoving on his underwear and trousers.

She cried away to herself as he stood and retrieved his belt from the floor, threading it through the loops of his trousers. He didn't bother fastening it, instead, he picked up the rest of his clothing from the floor and headed to the door. He paused by the door-frame, closing his eyes as she still loudly sobbed from the bed behind him, probably giving him the most hopeful look she could muster. He shook his head, his scowl returning.

He opened his eyes.

And exited her room.

Her heartfelt sobs faded with every step that he took.


	19. Guilty Pleasures

_**New Year's Eve, On The Approach to Midnight** _

Post-Christmas was always incredibly slow for any business, until the night of New Year's Eve. It was the first evening that had been busy for quite some time at Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium.

A steady trail of hungry customers traipsed into her shop as soon as she opened the door for the evening rush - luckily Eleanor still had 'meat' leftover from Christmas Eve, she was still suffering from the backlash of Mr Todd's blood-lust even then. She knew it was inevitable that he would only _add_ to the deteriorating pile of corpses, rather than wait for her to get to a manageable point for him to kill fresh victims...

While she was rushed off her feet tending tables in the courtyard, the barber was pacing his floorboards, open razor in hand. His thoughts were split in two - one half of him urged to spy on his accomplice through his window, the other half told him to keep his mind cleanly on his revenge. He had no concept of the current time, nor knowledge that he'd in fact been pacing for quite a few _hours,_ and had even missed out on coaxing a good number of victims up his stairs.

It had been _days_ since he'd last spoken with Mrs Lovett, and although her distance was something he was certain he wanted, he wasn't so sure that it was helping him. The more time that he spent away from her, the more she flooded into his mind, engulfing and morphing his ambition. He was confused as to why... being away from her was something he always used to treasure. Being alone was what he craved...

_Wasn't it?_

He shook his head and paused, his hand hanging loosely by his side, the razor still tucked snugly inside his palm. He frowned down at his feet, eyes ablaze with frenzied thoughts.

He could hear the rumble of the customers below and he clenched his jaw, wincing at the mindless noise of _people_ creeping into his shop... they were particularly rowdy on this night, and he already felt his blood boiling with annoyance. The ambience should have been expected. Had he known that it was New Year's Eve, he perhaps would have just got on with his throat-slitting and bared it. Yet as soon as he'd noticed the noise, it was like it only climbed up in volume - all in spite of him noticing.

Eleanor Lovett, on the other hand, knew that the louder her customers were, the better her business appeared to be.

" 'Nother over 'ere, sunshine!" one pot-bellied man yelled, waving at her amongst the people crammed in on the cramped benches. The baker obliged, following the sound of the man's overly loud call for more pie. She gave him a wry smile as she carried the tray to the table where he was sat, frowning with annoyance as he snatched up three pies without waiting for her to do her job and hand him one instead. Nevertheless, she beamed her smile wider and caught the money as he tipped it into her palms, though she couldn't bear to be near the impolite man any longer. Turning away with the tray firmly in her hands, she dropped the feigned emotion immediately, the flash of her true bother evident over her pallid features.

 _Thank god_ no one caught glimpse of the black look that swept over her for those few seconds, that single look alone would have made _anyone_ question her integrity, not to mention her _rationality._

She continued to absentmindedly play her role of innocent pie baker even as dark thoughts consumed her mind, adorning a warm smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as her hands exchanged pie after pie, for coin after coin.

 _'Would it be so bad to suggest 'at man to go an' see Mr T in is parlour upstairs?'_ she thought to herself, eyes undeniably darkening with sadistic excitement - though it could have easily been mistaken for interest in whatever gossip she was being fed from nearby customers. _'Great useless lump 'e is, doesn't even 'ave an ounce'a patience for anybody. What use is 'e to this world?'_

Eleanor suddenly shook her head and her eyes widened, realising that she was actually _considering_ sending someone upstairs _purposely_ to their slaughter. It was Mr Todd's job to persuade them up the stairs. Not _hers..._

At the thought of the barber, she paused and set the (now empty) wooden tray in a vacant space on a bench she happened to pass by, flicking her eyes up to the walkway outside his door.

As if on cue, the door opened, revealing the rather dishevelled man, her breath hitching with surprise. His black hair was more knotted than usual though that streak of white still effortlessly sliced through the tangles of ebony. Eleanor bit her lip at the sight of him peering down over the balcony, once again only clad in his shirt and braces. He seemed to be oblivious to her dreamy gaze at first, searching the crowd of greedy customers for the ideal throat to slit.

Although he'd hurt her immensely in more ways than he was aware, she still felt the ache of desire and love streaming through her, and the ache urged her to study his image whilst she had the chance. After all, she hadn't seen him for a few days now... it had been too awkward to return to their previous routine with each other.

_She'd missed him._

Not caring if anyone caught her gazing up at him with such longing, she let out a deep breath, holding a clenched fist over her heaving chest. She wanted to be able to hold him close to her again, even if he didn't love her... she just wanted him _close_... wanted him to crave her violently again. She hadn't forgotten the desire he'd had for her, the fierce flash of lust in his eyes...

Lost in her memories, and her own bubbling lust for the man she gazed upon, she hadn't realised that said man had turned his focus onto her, his eyes seething with both coldness and unfulfilled desires.

It was his smirk that finally caused her to blink out of her daydream and her eyes widened - it was the first time they'd even _attempted_ interaction since Boxing Day, and she could safely say that she hadn't anticipated him taking notice of her. Yet there he was, out in the open, eyes gleaming with more temptations and fantasies than she had knowledge of.

She bit her lip as she returned his smirk, giving him a playful wink as she gestured for him to meet her by the bottom of his stairs with her eyes. He frowned at her but decided to follow her lead, glancing down at his feet with an irremovable smirk on his mouth.

He kept his gaze on the stairs below him as he stepped down each one at a nonchalant pace, not wanting to attract the attention of any of the consumers.

Sweeney finally lifted his gaze once he reached ground level, eyes instantly settling on her with no mask to how he felt. It was clear that he was _more than_ pleased to see her, as much as he hated himself for feeling something for her.

"Good evening, Mrs Lovett." he greeted with a hint amusement to his tone, giving her a nod of his head as she cautiously took a step closer. Her eyes trailed his body's length - and for once, she was surprised that he allowed her to blatantly do so right there, in front of not only _himself,_ but all of her _customers_ too.

"Evenin', Mr T..." Eleanor replied in her usual cheery tone, his eyes returning the favour once she moved her hands onto her hips. She could feel herself burning up as he looked her over, inspecting her with interest... though she was sure that he wouldn't admit noticing anything she'd done differently, or not done at all.

"I got one for ya..." she whispered, and he took a step closer in interest, dipping his head down so that he could tilt his ear towards her in order to listen closely. "There's a greedy beggar 'few tables behind us, ya can't miss 'im. Snatched three bleedin' pies before I could even give one to 'im."

The barber hesitated before taking his head away from her, facing her dead in the eyes. That malevolent glint she'd come to know so well, flickered, and she could see the twitch of a smirk reaching the corner of his lips.

"You want me to get _rid_ of him, Mrs Lovett, is that it?" he breathed, though she detected some sort of tease to his words, something she wasn't entirely sure about.

"Well... I don't like 'im... is all." she whispered back, scratching the back of her neck out of nervousness.

"No need to explain anythin' to me, pet." he breathed, the most reassuring expression on his face, although those black eyes gave her the message entirely. Her suggestion of who to kill had seemed to light his desire for her, and she let out a shuddered breath of air.

"He'll be dead in a matter of minutes. He'll be more than _humble_ after being offered a shave that's free of charge."

The envious undertones to his words made her shiver, though she wasn't sure why he felt such jealously. Then again, she didn't really want to bother asking him now he had that murderous look in his eyes... not to mention the simmering desire increasing with every glance he took towards her.

"Inform the rat of my offer," he murmured, eyes on her mouth as she bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything that would dissuade him from wanting her. "and I assure you, I'll be more than _grateful_ when I see that man heading up my stairs."

" 'O course." she answered, her eyes swimming with the urge to kiss him right there, but she turned her head away from him, swallowing. "I'll inform 'im right away."

She obediently turned on her heels and headed back to the rude man from earlier, smiling to herself when she heard the barber bounding upstairs hurriedly, presumably to prepare himself for the murder that was about to occur minutes from then.

On her way to the oblivious victim, the touch of a confused frown graced her brow as the sounds of children playing nearby added to the noise of customers - it was unusual for a _single_ child to be seen in Fleet Street at this time, let alone _several_. She finally approached the man, and plastered on her usual cheery mask.

Finding the meaningless words effortlessly spilling out of her mouth at him, her attention turned the group of young boys playing in the street, the look of sadness on her face there only for a brief second before she tore her eyes away. The man instantly stood from his seat and she had to blink a few times, amazed at how eager he was to accept something just because it was _free._

"I'd be _delighted_ to accept Mr Todd's kind proposition. As far as I'm concerned he's already the best barber in London for offering me such a thing!" he laughed out, slapping her on the back as if she was his best 'pal'. Internally, Eleanor hoped that the barber had seen him do such a thing, because she felt incredibly uncomfortable as the man pushed past her, her hands clenching into tense fists. She shivered and closed her eyes for a moment, recovering her warm aura as she opened her eyes with a smile. She hugged her arms around her, suddenly feeling the chill in the air outside.

Again, she found her eyes being drawn to the boys playing over the cobbles, admiring their innocence, in awe of their fearlessness.

Her attention soon grew however, when a short, slender figure headed towards her shop in the distance within the pitch black. They cut through the masses of street-goers and then it was clearer once they approached the rowdy children, that they were wearing some kind of frayed tailcoat. Though from a distance, the clothing seemed elaborate, it was obvious it had rips and holes in the material.

She watched in interest as the boys all stopped and surrounded the person, creating a circle.

Eleanor frowned, deciding that it was too _obvious_ if she kept on being nosy outside, so she quickly entered her shop, peeking out through her net curtains. Luckily no customers had decided to eat inside, so she could nosy to her heart's content.

The boys soon dispersed from the circle, resuming their game. The person was heading directly towards her shop. Eleanor swallowed and quickly swung around, rushing to her place behind the counter.

 _'Don't panic... jus' act natural...'_ she told herself and she decided to busy herself by counting all of the pies on a full tray she'd previously left on her counter.

Her heart skipped a beat as she heard the door open, the bell tingling as it gently closed. Immediately, after quite a few loud steps into the middle of the shop, the baker lifted her gaze to settle on the mystery person before her. Curiosity filled her mind as her hands rearranged the pies without her eyes to aid her.

" 'Ello there," she greeted with a welcoming smile, yet once again, her eyes gave away her true intrigue. "what can I do f'ya t'day, Miss?"

The woman came to stop as soon when she was directly in front of Eleanor, grey eyes narrowed in interest. It seemed the two of them were both equally confused, or _fascinated._ And the baker couldn't help noticing how bloody red the woman's hair was... it was a far much deeper tone than her own.

"I'd like a pie, if it's not too much trouble." she spoke confidently. Her voice had a sharp edge to it, even though she had a polite smile on her coal-stained lips. Eleanor set to grabbing a plate for her, digging beneath the counter for one without a huge layer of dust over its surface.

" 'Course not, dear. What brings ya this way?"

She soon emerged, standing back up straight with the cleanest plate she could find. The woman stared at her with vacant eyes, not a single slither of the smile she'd worn previously left on her face.

Eleanor lifted one of the pies from the tray onto the plate slowly, her brown eyes narrowing in confusion as the woman still didn't seem aware of what she'd asked.

 _"Oh."_ she finally replied, the harsh undertone to her words clear to the baker's ears. "Nothing in _particular."_

Wanting to immediately end the uncomfortable small talk, Mrs Lovett quickly lifted up the plate and held it out towards her.

Wordlessly, the woman reached out her free hand, her palm filled with coins. As she did so, Eleanor took a quick look over her. She held in the urge to gasp out with fright when she realised that the woman had the brim of a hat tucked within the other palm of her grubby hand. As the plate left her hands and instead, was replaced with coins, she noticed a large gash over the shoulder of the coat - it was clear that the poor woman had been _attacked_ at some point...

Her heart stopped and she froze, wide eyed as the woman frowned at her in annoyance.

"The pie looks... lovely, thank you." the young woman said coldly, despite some warmth reaching her void-like eyes.

Eleanor feigned a grateful smile as the woman turned away with her plate, slightly limping towards one of the booths by one of the shop windows.

The baker gritted her teeth in worry as she watched the girl sit down, carefully placing the plate square in the middle of the table, then setting down her stove-pipe hat to the right of it.

Eleanor could no longer deny what she'd feared.

It was the mysterious attacker from Christmas Eve.

_It had to be._

She'd believed Mr Todd that night. She never thought he'd lie to her about letting someone slip out of his grasp... then again, she should have expected such a thing for a man who feeds off his own selfish pride.

It still did not excuse him.

Irritation mixed with fear swept over her and she quickly darted towards the parlour, not risking trying to leave via the outer doors - she'd anticipated that the attacker would have expected that of her. Luckily she'd managed to slip around the corner and up the narrow staircase, up to the man who had lied to her.

Countless concerns filled her head as she rushed up each step to the landing. There was _no question_ that the young woman had been there in the bake-house that night. _No question_ that she'd cleaned up after Mr Todd's accident. So why was she there, returning to the place as a willing _customer?_

_Nothing made sense._

Upon bursting into his shop, she gasped as she'd just caught Mr Todd mid-step on the death-chair's pedal. She watched in shock as the fat man, who she'd seen alive and well moments before, was just another sack of meat being tipped back to slide down the chute, crimson blood still trickling out from the gash in his throat. As the floor returned to it usual unsuspecting state, along with the barber chair, Sweeney turned abruptly, eyes blazing into her.

"What is it?!" he snarled, closing his razor as he stormed over his floorboards to dump the weapon on his vanity. "You are _not_ supposed to be _here,_ Mrs Lovett. You know that _very_ well. I admit, I owe you a _favour_ for creating such welcomed _custom_ for me but - "

"You lied t'me!" she near yelled, though it was clear that it was more out of desperation than anger. _"Mr T!_ Why in 'eaven's name did ya not _kill 'em?!"_

The barber paused and turned to face her, bewildered frown matching his amused eyes to form a mocking expression.

"Whatever are you on about, woman?" he spat, though the building concern in his eyes made her heart wrench.

"There's a girl downstairs, Mr T! The one wearin' that _hat!"_

His frown deepened and he rushed over to her, seizing his hands around her shoulders.

"A... girl?!" he breathed, his black eyes alert as they searched hers. "Oh, I see what this is. Don't you see, Mrs Lovett?"

She frowned at him and shook her head, her legs already wobbling from his intensity, not to mention her own horrific worries.

"She's _taunting_ us. She's trying to draw us out of our comfort zone, out into the light of the public eye. Well, she'll be waiting all night."

"A-An' wot if she does?! Wot then? She knows _everythin',_ Mr T!"

"Now, now." he hushed her, cupping her chin in his hands. "We can't be certain that she's who _we think_ she is, can we?"

She glared at him, like he'd just insulted her. Well, in a roundabout way, he probably had.

"You come'n see f'yourself then!" she snapped, shrugging him off her to snatch hold of his forearm, yanking him towards the door she'd just entered from.

 _"I can't,_ look at me! I'm all covered in - "

"Oh, I think we 'ave _bigger problems_ than little bits 'o _blood_ on ya, Mr T!"

He couldn't help smirking at her panic as he allowed her to drag him through the door, and then down the stairs. He'd grown to enjoy having his indoor staircase... it always reminded him of Eleanor, or times of corruption (like the burden that they currently had) whenever he went down them.

Once they were at the bottom, Mr Todd went to pass by her into the shop but she tugged him back towards her and he halted, scowling as he swivelled back into the darkness near the parlour's entrance.

"She's by the window, eatin' 'er pie." Eleanor whispered.

Before he peered around the wall to study the young woman he glared at his accomplice, shocked at the last thing she'd said. Silently, he stuck his head around the wall, narrowing his eyes as he inspected the customer.

The pie on her plate hadn't even been touched, it seemed, and she'd extended her legs out over the table instead, stove-pipe hat angled over her head to shield her eyes from anyone who would happen to fall in her eye-line.

Ignoring the already _significant_ fact that she wore the fashion of hat that the attacker had, Sweeney started trying to spot any signs of injury. He recalled them sprinting away that night, but as they weren't walking he couldn't possibly spot such a thing. The _incision_ he'd made however, would be easier to recognise.

"Any joy?" Mrs Lovett whispered, eyes hopeful as she searched his face.

"Shut up." he breathed out in annoyance, too lost in looking for a wound that he failed to notice she'd let go of his arm to instead clasp their hands together.

From the angle that the customer was facing, he couldn't tell for certain, but he was _sure_ that he could see a vertical slash within the material of the long coat, then again there seemed to be various rips in the coat, so it may have been a coincidence. But he did get the most _murderous_ feeling within himself that told him otherwise. As soon as he tightened his hand around Eleanor's as an after-effect from his realisation, she gasped out loudly with the pain he'd caused and the young woman shifted at the sound.

 _"Fuck!"_ Sweeney whispered firmly, stepping back into her before tugging her with him, darting through to the parlour (luckily Eleanor had left the door open earlier). Quietly growling with annoyance, he pushed her away from him to hurriedly pick away the barriers holding the bake-house doors in place.

_He wanted to be somewhere where no one could get to them._

Before she could register what was happening, he took hold of her by her shoulders and shoved her inside, following her into the blackness.

The doors locked securely in place behind them.

"Do you think she saw us?" Sweeney whispered, holding his palm flat against the now firmly locked doors of the bake-house. His eyes were focused on the stone slab on which they were stood, and it seemed he didn't want to look up to talk to her. Perhaps out of annoyance. Perhaps out of fear.

"No. If she 'ad she woulda chased us, wouldn't she?" she replied, rolling her eyes at him, though internally she felt both positive and negative anticipation shuddering about her entire body. "Wot's got ya actin' so paranoid? That young _girl?_ Ya said y'self that we ain't gotta jump t'conclusions. _"_

 _"That was before I saw her, Eleanor!"_ he hissed in a hushed whisper, eyes lighting up like a furnace even in the thick black, the only other light was from the small crack beneath the bake-house doors. "She's not even _touchin'_ the pie in front of her - she _knows!_ For god's sake, woman! _You_ even 'ad the urge to tell me about her presence, and you're certainly not one for actin' on _impulse,_ are you? As we all know, you like waitin' things _out."_

She scowled up at him as she took a step closer, so that she could narrow her eyes straight at his.

"Oh _I_ see 'ow it is." Eleanor snapped, hands flying to her hips as the hotness of rage spread over her face. "Now that you've 'ad me, y'think y'can take all your _problems_ out on me an' all!."

 _"What?!_ What is _wrong_ with you, Mrs Lovett?! It's _her_ that's the issue! She's the one that was in _here_ on _that night._ She's sat out there _right now_ , staring at one of your pies. What are we to do? She has to be _rid of,_ we both know that much. And I can't go and make another mistake like - "

"I know." she cut in stubbornly, her eyes dropping the feigned annoyance to burn through the darkness just like his, though it wasn't raging paranoia that was her fuel. It was something else entirely.

He frowned at her curt interruption, holding the furious panic over his features... though it was getting increasingly hard to ignore how enticing she was in the dark - he swallowed as she parted her lips slightly, her hands slackening over her hips.

They could sense the atmosphere shifting between them both already, the underlying hunger making itself known. Even after he'd made it plainly clear (when he'd left her to be a sobbing wreck that morning of not so many days ago) that he wasn't adamant how he felt about her, he'd promised himself that he would steer clear of her entirely. He wanted to compress his lustful fantasies down so that he wasn't tempted to get lost in her again...

He'd already succumbed to her once before, meaning that giving into his desire for her a _second_ time would be _far_ much easier. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering their last encounter, recalling the sounds of her heavy breaths and her airy moans. "We... " he started huskily, his eyelids veiling over the sight of her. "We have to do somethin' about her. She knows everythin', Mrs Lovett. She's a _liability."_

He heard her take another half-step forwards. He let out an audible deep breath at the friction of her front over his torso. He clenched his jaw, still not daring to open his eyes. He was not one for consciously repeating his own mistakes...

 _'Bedding Eleanor Lovett was not a_ mistake, _though, was it?'_ he snapped at himself internally, his hands balling into reluctant fists. _'And you know_ full well _that if the troublemaker downstairs was a_ real _threat that you wouldn't be in here in the first place. Your paranoia is just a rouse to get you both here, isn't it?_ You want her again. _You want her so much that you're willing to overlook the person you've been concerned about since Christmas Eve... You have a chance at slitting their throat, yet look where you are.'_

 _'The girl downstairs is no_ threat _. If she was then I highly doubt that she'd take her time on gathering her energy by scoffing one of Mrs Lovett's pies, or chatting to other customers...'_

He frowned, still not opening his eyes.

_'Why is she so content eating them now that she knows that they're filled with dead vermin?'_

Before he could contemplate that strange thought any further, Eleanor snatched away his attention immediately as he felt her hands sliding either side of his neck. In confusion, his eyes shot open, and they widened when she forced herself onto him. He started backwards and ended up slamming his spine into the bake-house doors - he winced and let out a hiss of irritation as she clung onto him, though his eyelids drooped down as he looked back at her.

"She _is_ a liability." he whispered absentmindedly, his black eyes flicking to watch the invisible breaths passing through the gap between her lips. "But I s'pose nothin' we need to deal with _immediately - "_

 _"Oh!"_ she gasped out in mock worry, her lustful expression never leaving her pallid features. "But _I_ still 'ave a business t'run, Mr T! 'Could be customers out there waitin' for a pie full 'o priest, for all we know. I'm bettin' there's a bugger up them stairs waitin' to 'ave a shave from you an' all."

"Then the rat will have to _wait."_ he growled, his clawed hands seizing hold of her by the base of her ribs. "I'm currently _occupied."_ A shocked breath of air pushed out of her as he dragged her closer, his mouth forcing her to comply with his to form a kiss. She whimpered excitedly as his teeth nipped at her tongue that had cheekily slipped through. Her mouth fought back harder when she felt his hands rubbing their way down her front, pressing in teasingly here and there. They continued to roughly stroke over her, heading around her abdomen to grasp at her rear, feeling the shapely curve beneath.

He dodged his face away from her so that he could leave kiss after wet kiss over her cleavage, her pants and gasps of enjoyment causing him to throb harder by the second.

"Wot if someone 'ears us?" she panted out, her chest's heaves only causing his actions to be more arousing.

She felt him pause and smirk against the tops of her breasts.

_"Do you care?"_

She didn't give him a verbal answer. Instead, she confidently grabbed a fistful of his black hair to yank his head upwards. He still looked flustered but he was shocked at her rough action, his eyes wide as she forced him into a kiss. He allowed a throaty moan to escape his voice-box as her hand joined the other to tangle into his hair, her nails grazing over his scalp.

She took a hand away again, all in a rush, already shakily fiddling with the clasp on his belt. He smirked into the kiss, odd locks of black hair hanging down across his cheeks now that it was even more dishevelled.

He hummed into her mouth as he felt his trousers loosen, his bottom half leaning in her direction. She left his lips for a moment, her eyelashes shading her brown eyes, the look of desire making his blood pump erratically, his veins pleasantly twinging.

He groaned lowly, and rather loudly as he felt the cloth of his undershorts pull away from his skin, the cold air a relief to his body.

The air was soon replaced with the hot skin of her hands, her smirk painting over her lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. He flung back his head at the feeling, causing the back of his skull to thump against the door behind him. As she continued to move her fingers over him, he cracked open his eyes, the sight of her biting into her half-smile only making him feel even hotter.

He took his hands from her behind and pushed each of his braces from his shoulders. He then frantically tore at his neckties, leaning in towards her in order that he could unravel them. But by doing so she tightened her grip around him and a loud groan caught in the back of his throat. He gritted his teeth and hissed with pleasure as he detached his braces, his neckties soon joining the rest of the material as it was strewn over the grimy steps.

He'd had enough of her teasing.

He inhaled deeply, reaching back around her to roughly tug at laces and ties to loosen her top layer of dress, and in an instant it fell straight off her form. The fiery redness from the distant glow of the oven caused all of the glistening highlights over her pallid skin to set alight. He tensed his arms as he yanked the heavy dress down the rest of body - her fingers left him for a moment as she stepped out of the pool of clothing, boots kicking the material away to land somewhere behind her.

She took a firm hold of him again , and he attacked her lips, a sneaky hand of his finding its way to the waistband of her bloomers. He didn't want to go through the _excruciating_ wait of undressing her completely... he didn't have the patience.

He wanted her as soon as possible.

Her bodice was tightened to the brim, only attributing to the roundness of her breasts - the skin of her cleavage pushed into his torso.

Eleanor moaned highly as she felt the bloomers slide down her legs - she lifted each leg up in order for him to pull them off completely. He broke from her lips as he threw them away too, instantly looking down at the sight of her bottom half. If his black irises weren't ablaze before, they certainly were then as interest took over - something about the fact that she was still wearing her shoes and stockings made him fire up with want further.

She focused on his eyes, mesmerised by the curious stare that he didn't appear to mask. He ripped off his shirt without taking his gaze from her, his pale, toned torso already coated with a thin layer of perspiration.

He saw her hands reaching down towards him again and he shut his eyes as he let out a deep sigh.

 _"Fuck."_ he snarled when he widened his eyes, as the feel of what she was doing and the sight of her finally mixed into one pleasurable wave of reaction.

He impatiently snatched his arms around her again, grasping hold of her by the skin just beneath her buttocks. She gasped out as he hoisted her upwards with the power of his arms, her legs involuntarily parting, opening herself up to invite him inside.

They groaned out loudly as he lowered her over himself, the shock of how quickly they met each other's want causing them both to shake in ecstasy.

She hastily snaked her arms around his neck as he began to pump into her with no hesitation, her legs stretching up so that the soles of her boots laid flat against the wooden surface of the doors.

The fact they were fucking each other in a location that could easily be compared to a _Hell on Earth_ (though even that comparison was too kind), still partially dressed and sweltering with the heat from finally becoming one... it was once again, _inappropriate._ They knew full well that there was a possibility that a nosy customer could decide to snoop around for Mrs Lovett at any moment, then the snooper could even catch sound of them giving themselves to one another... their moans of self-indulgence would be difficult to ignore - they may not be seen, but they would certainly be _heard._

It was all so _improper._ So _wrongfully_ pleasurable.

And for Mrs Lovett to know that Mr Todd had changed his mind about coming together with her - _as he was showing her powerfully, with his audacious thrusts into her_ \- it only made her react back to him enthusiastically, by driving her hips upwards and downwards, their groans in time with each buck of contact.

He buried his face her cleavage - where he kissed up and down between his deep breaths, as their bouncing motions caused her to rub against him.

Her arms gripped around him tightly, to make sure he didn't push her away.

To make sure that this was really happening again.

To make sure that, this time, she could _feel_ whether it was right or not... it _always_ had been right for her since the last time they had become one - but she wanted to make sure it was the right time for _him._

And from his lack of speech, and his energetic exploration of her chest with his damp lips... not to mention his violent thrusts into her insides... it was clear to her, that them connecting like that wasn't some catastrophic _mistake._ It may have possibly been the _worst scenario_ for such sensuality to take place in however, considering there was a problematic witness sitting in Mrs Lovett's courtyard upstairs, attempting to cause a public confrontation with the demon barber...

But for both Sweeney and Eleanor, it was finally a time where they were _sure._ Sure about one another. The barber could no longer deny how much pleasure she brought him. As her chin rested on his forehead, he paused as realisation set in.

When he ceased pushing into her, and his breaths panted out over her chest's skin, she looked at him through worried eyes... _don't say it wasn't the right time for him. Not then, when he was still snugly inside her._

His previously intoxicated expression dropped to be replaced with a deep frown as he took his face away from her torso. The hands still gripped her in place, and she knew she probably had red marks from where his fingers had held her still...

As his head slowly lifted, hers dropped back so that she could search his eyes, trying to find some scrap of explanation for his hesitation. And never before, had she seen whatever emotion that was swimming with his eyes, until _then._

It was the darkest look she'd ever gotten from him in a while, but for some reason, his hardened stare encompassed her entire being. His feelings towards her scooped their skeletal hands around her heart - finally, he was embracing something deep within her soul.

"Eleanor..." he breathed, his intense eyes flickering over her face, like he was taking in every slither of emotion on her features. Her eyes faltered when he dipped his head and started kissing over her collarbone, the fingers on her tender skin squeezing hard.

Her heart twisted in confused happiness as she flung her head back, his mouth quickly taking advantage by sucking on the side of her throat. Blissfully under some sort of spell, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of enjoyment, ignoring the fact that she felt her boots falling away from the doors...

She frowned and opened her eyes.

He'd somehow managed to exchange places with her without taking himself out of her, and she gasped out as he leaned into her forcefully. Her back hit the doors with a bang - just like he had before - his mouth smothered over her and she kissed back just as violently, low rumbles and throaty moans adding to their kisses as he continued to fuck her deeply.

They broke their kiss to catch some air, but Sweeney took advantage once again, and pressed her hard into the wood, angling himself so he stabbed into her from a more vertical position. She screamed out in satisfaction and fought against the nails gripping her in place to curl her legs around him. His hands slid down her legs, over her stockings as deeper grunts pushed out from his throat.

His hands soon found their way back up to Eleanor's top-half, and forced their way beneath the tightly bound corset, his fingers already playing with the skin underneath.

She stared back in awe at his determined black eyes, neither of them breaking the contact as his mouth brushed over hers... it wasn't long until his eyebrows raised, and his pants and grunts sped up - just like the rest of his body had. She felt him growing hotter and hotter, his hands on her tightening - she winced though she found his actions even more pleasurable to be a part of.

He thrusted into her faster than he had done ever before, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she reached her own end.

The legs that were coiled around him tightened with anticipation as she felt his legs beginning to wobble slightly. She felt herself tensing around him and they both breathed out deeply in unison.

Her own release came first, and she tossed her head back against the doors again, unable to suppress her high-pitched yell as he didn't cease pushing himself into her, continuing to fuck her into the wood behind her.

"Whatever ya do..." she whispered highly, her eyes wide with the overwhelming sensation of him still at work inside her. "Please... don't... stop."

He growled thirstily and dragged his hands out of her bodice, in order to squeeze either sides of her throat in a choke. She wheezed out deep breaths, her expression of alarm causing him to smirk... She shivered at the look of malicious amusement mixed with utter ecstasy over his features.

"Ah! _God !"_ he groaned out lowly as the conniving look he'd given her was soon replaced with one of pure, delicious defeat. "Fuck, Eleanor... _Fuck!"_

His cursing had become a common occurance recently, especially now that the two of them were having intercourse. Eleanor thought it was even more arousing than any attempts at embarrassing dirty talk... despite the fact that she thought he'd probably be good at such a thing. She hoped she'd get another chance to find out.

With her entire body tightly embracing all around him, he finally breathed out a raspy wheeze and tightened his grip around her neck, completely filling her up with one last deep thrust.

The two of them panted in unison, his body pinning her against the doors to ensure that he didn't drop her, even as he took himself out from inside of her.

"We _must_ do this again." Sweeney whispered between breaths, leaning his damp forehead on hers as he loosened his grip around her throat. "There's no reason for me to deny what we want any longer. I... apologise for when this happened before. I should never have left you."

Eleanor chuckled nervously at his attempt at remorse and bit her bottom lip. His eyes must have detected her actions because they flew open instantly, studying the teeth grazing over the skin of her lips.

"Don't ya worry y'self over that now..." she replied, her voice just over a whisper, and her eyes gleaming with all the happiness he'd unknowingly caused her to feel. "W-Wot did y'mean by 'We must do this 'gain'?! Y-You mean 'at y-you..."

"I want you. Yes." he near growled, head tilting to the side so his mouth could brush against her ear as he blatantly uttered his confession. "Even now that I've had you, I just want you even more, Mrs Lovett. Do you know how _dangerous_ you are? You've caused me to risk _everything_ \- my methods, my integrity, my vengeance - yet, why is it, that I don't care?"

He tilted his head to his previous position, so that his stern black eyes could challenge her flustered brown orbs directly.

"I-I dunno, Mr T..." she replied airily, feeling rather out of place and quite frightened even though she was hearing everything she'd dreamed of hearing spill out of his dreamy mouth.

"I think..." he murmured, his eyelids drooping when he took his face forwards so that his lips brushed against hers, his fingers firmly kneading either side of her pulsating neck. "it's because we're alike, you and I..."

A tremendous shiver shook through her entire body and her heart twinged at his words, though she was sure that he hadn't intended to bring her any feeling of loving warmth.

Too lost in his haunting eyes, she could only imagine the sight of the smirk she felt pressed against her lips.

"We are?" she asked highly, his hands roughly stroking down over her until they could grasp around her waist. She was hoping he'd come to his senses - come to realise that he perhaps felt something more than lust for her. Though... him appearing to care enough to apologise was at least a start, she supposed.

"Oh, definitely." he said huskily. "We are like-minded, we understand that we 'ave boundaries and lines that are never to be crossed. The only time, it seems, that we forget about our rules and rationality is... "

He trailed off with a snide smirk, and she smiled wickedly at him, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"Times like 'is?" she finished, her eyes dancing with adoration as he stared intensely back at her.

"Yes." he breathed out onto her, gently pressing his lips into hers, but only for a second, before he pulled away.

"We should go back..." she said worriedly as the ambience of customers suddenly seeped through the doors and into their ears. " 'Else some beggar'll 'ave stolen somethin' 'gain..."

"I think we 'ave bigger problems than _thieves,_ pet. That strange woman, for one..."

"Then that's the throat t'slit, dear."

They smirked at each other, eyes glistening with the same thought before they leaned into each other and shared one last kiss the darkness, not so far away from the descent to the mass of bodies festering away by the meat grinder...

_Yes._

They were most certainly more alike than they'd both thought.

And it was during that last kiss that they realised what they were to each other.

A guilty pleasure.

A _sin._

After living corrupt lives ever since their pie plan evolved, they found sins easier to overlook. But it _did_ help if they also gained immense pleasure out of such activities...

And when they finally parted, eyes shining equally with unspoken dark desires, it was then they both knew...

They wanted _this_ sin to _last._


	20. An Undesirable Proposition

Sweeney pressed Eleanor firmly into the bake-house door, the two of them were lost in a sea of deep kisses once more. Her head was reeling from how much attention he was giving her - after going almost weeks without any real interaction between them, what they'd both participated in was a shock to their systems.

It wasn't long, however, before he pulled away, and she gasped out, in dire need of air. With curious eyes, reddened cheeks and swollen lips she looked back at him, watching him intently as he crouched down and reached an arm backwards, feeling for their scattered clothes in the darkness. As soon as his fingers grappled onto the pile of material, he pushed himself forwards, so that he was directly before her bare bottom half.

He glanced up at her darkly, smirking when she instantly returned the look. His amusement heightened as he closed his eyes and leaned forwards, pressing kisses to the tender skin above her knees. When she groaned in response, he began to slide his entire body upwards, his lips trailing over each sensitive cell of skin. Once his mouth pressed kisses over the partially-exposed skin of her abdomen, he quickened his pace and stood up straight, dipping his head down again to catch her mouth in a hard kiss...

* * *

The main shop was deserted of anyone, apart from the suspicious girl, who was still hogging one of the window booths, hat tipped over her brow to shield her eyes.

Clearly lost in her thoughts, or merely _disinterested,_ she failed to notice the movement of the shirtless barber - he was making an effort to creep out from the parlour, eyes analyzing as he watched the girl with wary loathing. He wrung his clothing in his hands and he clenched his teeth, muscles tensing with frustration as the girl proceeded to place her feet up over the table, her arms folding behind her head.

He promised himself that he'd slit that little throat of hers another time, for now he needed to process what the hell had just happened... and how much he _needed_ to encounter his accomplice, again, again ... and then _again._

He swallowed, holding in his shallow breaths and pivoted in the direction of the narrow staircase, quietly bringing down his shoes with each step that he took.

As soon as he was halfway up the stairs, the heavy steps and equally fatigued breaths from behind him alerted him of Mrs Lovett's presence. She was peering up at his bare back, biting her lip... which was a lot redder than normal. He tilted his head back to the right, catching a glimpse of her still lusting after him over his shoulder. A smirk tugged on his mouth and he swivelled back further so that she could see his grin for herself, her chocolate pools cascading into his black hollows as their connection was finally rediscovered.

Neither could look away.

However, he soon seemed amused by her appearance. It would be clear to whoever was to walk in what the two of them had just done - the way her auburn hair was a tad more knotted than usual, the light pink tinge to her cheeks, the contented softness in her light brown eyes... not to mention, the dress that had clearly been slung on in a hurried manner - the blatant sight of her alone was enough for him to feel his want for her racing through his veins.

Feeling like he'd started to perhaps study the alluring woman _far_ too much, he turned away and dropped his head down to the ground, bounding up the rest of the stairs like he had been expecting her to _chase_ him up to his parlour for what she truly desired.

Instead, she chuckled under her breath, eyes gleaming with adoration as she watched the door to his quarters shut.

She hadn't expected them both to repeat their intimacy, especially so soon... especially when the two of them were within their _open hours..._

The barber had caught her off-guard.

And she _loved it._

Eleanor bit into her dazed smile, slowly making her way back to her usual place behind the counter, a slight wobble in her step. She completely forgot about the strange young woman in her presence in those first few minutes. Sweeney Todd occupied her whole being, the ghostly feel of his hands still present where he had held her in place just moments before. She could smell him all around her, and she was intoxicated by him all over again.

It wasn't long before a thin, gawky looking man entered the shop in an overly loud manner, like he'd known to do so to drag the baker's attention towards him. The door slammed, the row of glass windows next to the door frame shaking slightly.

He held his nose up into the air as he sauntered over to Mrs Lovett's counter. His dark brown hair reached his shoulders, but it was all unevenly matted together, so it was clear that his true hair's length was considerably longer. His clothes were of fine quality, despite the fact he was hunched over, coughing and darting his eyes around like the entire place was filled with people whispering about him. It seemed that even the _well off_ people in the demented city of London were an absolute mess.

Even though Eleanor was now apprehensive due to noticing the presence of the silent, hat-wearing woman, and fairly self-conscious of her own dishevelled appearance, she still flashed the lanky man an opaque smile.

" 'Ello there, Mister Barry. 'Ow can I 'elp ya?" she asked in the sweetest, most approachable tone she could muster.

She'd recognised the customer instantly seeing as his business was situated nearby and he often came in for a hot human pie. And it wasn't as if he was exactly easy to _forget,_ his unkempt appearance, bloodshot eyes and just general rudeness led her to believe he was probably an addict of some description, or perhaps just suffering from constant stress.

_Or dying._

His hazel eyes squinted at her like he was already accusing her of something and his lungs puffed out breaths erratically, like he was clinging onto that last of his breathing apparatus before his body finally gave up.

Either way, Eleanor felt uncomfortable being around him. Yet she played the role she was assigned, plastering a smile on her lips to pretend that everything was completely fine - when in actual fact, she was praying that he wouldn't spot anything off about how she looked, she certainly wouldn't want to _explain_ why her corset was half-showing...

"Those children," the man bellowed, mustache twitching with every drawled syllable of his accentuated words. "they're outside making an _unruly_ tantrum! They've been to-and-fro from the exterior of my establishment _all evening!_ They are a bloody nuisance!"

Mrs Lovett dropped her worry and frowned at him in confusion, unsure why he was telling _her_ about his annoyance... it wasn't like the youngsters were doing anything _wrong_ , in fact, it had made her smile earlier to see that the children still found a place for fun and games, even in the hardest of times. Before she could think of an answer, she heard feet slamming down onto the floor.

"And what is _Mrs Lovett_ supposed to do about that?" the mysterious young woman's voice cut in, and it was clear from her tone that the man had already grated on her nerves. "I'm sure she's got _better_ things to do than go outside and ruin a child's happiness, just because you told her to do so. If you have a problem, why not solve it _yourself_ , like the _brilliant_ business man you are."

The woman approached the counter, standing beside the man, the green flames of hatred burning into her grey irises as she sized him up.

Eleanor watched in fascination, scoffing back the urge to laugh out loud. There was still that uncertainty and fear in the back of her mind, and she couldn't take her eyes away from the young woman - from the rips and tears in her clothing, the girl looked like she'd been in some sort of scrap since Sweeney's attack... perhaps even _several..._

"Speakin' 'o business," Eleanor finally spoke calmly, elbows bent on the side of the counter so she could rest her chin in her palms (and shield the corset which was still peeking out from the neckline of her dress). " 'ow's things f'you, Mister Barry?"

The man gulped with apprehension and averted his eyes from the girl next to him, glaring with concern at Mrs Lovett instead.

"Oh, quite well, Mrs Lovett. Busy as of late. Though I am sure custom has been driven away by all of those little street urchins arsing about outside my - "

"You know what you need, sir?" the girl interrupted again, the dark grey-stained lips curving into a snide grin, smudging the black powder-like substance further into the corners of her mouth. "You ought to have a shave, that would surely calm your nerves."

Eleanor flicked her eyes to the girl, glaring at her with shock. The young woman was now fully _aware_ of what happened to anyone that visited Mr Todd... yet there she was, setting someone up to die without a care in the world. It seemed that she and Mrs Lovett had more in common than either of them had considered.

"Oh yes!" Mrs Lovett exclaimed, the friendliest of smiles on her lips yet her eyes stared with such horror and intrigue towards the unusual girl. "Wot a good idea! I'm sure 'at Mr Todd upstairs would make you more than comfortable, sir. In fact, if I go 'ave a word with 'im now, 'e might jus' shave ya free'a charge!"

Mr Barry's features brightened slightly and he raised a brow at Mrs Lovett, like her appreciation for him going for a shave was a sort of flirtation, rather than just plain persuasion.

He gave her a grotesque smile, "No need to go up all those stairs to ask the barber, dear. I shall merely explain that you recommended him to me. Once I am finished I most certainly will come down and thank you _personally."_

He dashed from the counter with an expectant grin, stumbling slightly as he exited the shop without any goodbyes, and made his way to the demon barber above. Eleanor's eyes trailed after him as he walked around the outside of her premesis, and towards the barber's stairs - stairs she'd suddenly become far more _fond_ of.

"Good riddance." the young woman whispered fiercely, eyes icily focused on the man too.

Mrs Lovett's eyes widened and she turned her attention to the woman. Now that they were alone again she had no clue what to expect...

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm doing here, given that your revered business partner man-handled me more than I would have liked." she said with a sigh, dropping her eyes down to study the empty trays strewn across the counter.

For once, Eleanor stayed quiet, transfixed to the woman before her. Every word led her closer to understanding whatever the hell she ought to be worried about.

"First of all, I am not the enemy. I'm not here to disrupt your actions. I believe I can be of assistance to you both. I have a similar setup at the mortuary - "

Eleanor's worry suddenly dropped completely, and utter interest took her over. She suddenly realised that the woman's distorted but formal state of dress made sense - she must have been some kind of _undertaker._ A woman having a profession was uncommon to begin with, so it was intriguing that the girl's trade was something macabre at face-value.

Nevertheless, something had finally fallen in place.

" - I've been getting rid of repulsive people for months now, and no one's so much as batted an eyelash. I suppose the incompetence of London's communication on trivial facts is something that we're all thankful for."

Eleanor stood up straight, narrowing her eyes in curiosity as her hands held her hips, all shame about her state of dress forgotten.

"That's all very well, but if y'were to be part of all'a this, wot's in it for _you?_ An' why'd ya 'ave'ta give us an awful fright that night?"

"In all honesty, I'm not certain about how I got there. And I'll be content knowing there are others I can rely on - if I am not able to eliminate anyone that needs to die, of course."

The girl lifted her head to face Eleanor squarely in her chocolate eyes, her own grey irises softening slightly as she outstreched her hand towards her, awaiting a handshake from the taken aback baker.

Blinking in confusion, Mrs Lovett cautiously lifted her arm upwards, slowly extending it out...

Something in that brief moment was _familiar,_ but so very darkly distorted that Eleanor could not make head nor tail of what it was that she recognised. In that moment, she was within reason if she was to refuse the handshake completely... but she was compelled by her own selfish curiosity to stick her hand out to meet the mysterious woman's palm...

Until the shop door bursting open interrupted her entirely, and both women froze, their eyes flicking towards the sound of the abruption.

It was the infamous Beadle Bamford, tipping his leather clad top-hat towards Mrs Lovett as the door slammed behind him.

As always, the disgusting man subconsciously attracted everyone's attention, and attention was something that he _always_ craved.

"Why, if it isn't the most _renowned_ baker in London!" he announced, sauntering over to stand beside the young girl, whose eyes were ablaze with pent up rage. It seemed that the man was completely oblivious to the girl, or was purposely ignoring that she existed.

"I have a _proposition_ for you, Mrs Lovett." he continued, not allowing either woman to react or interrupt his speech as he held out a thin envelope over the counter. "That there, is an invitation to the great Judge Turpin's annual ball. Few are ever invited during their lifetimes, and as your establishment and your reputation is _impeccable_ to the eyes and ears of London, you are most welcome to join us in a few weeks time."

Eleanor felt like the last few minutes were some sort of dream. First it was the appearance of the young girl - someone who was somehow familiar to her, despite the uncomfortable vibe she gave off. And then second, was the fact that she had become successful enough to receive recognition from an upstanding member in society...

She blinked a couple of times, hoping that Beadle Bamford's hand gripping the neatly sealed envelope before her eyes was just some crude apparition... but the sight of his gloved hand was still there.

Silently, she took the invitation from him, ensuring to pinch her fingers around the furthest corner away from his corrupt fingers.

"Oh! I'm... honoured!" she exclaimed, though she was struggling for words - her thoughts were too scrambled and immediately all she could think of was what Mr Todd would think of the invite. "Give the Judge me thanks, I'm... grateful."

 _"Naturally."_ he replied, smugly nodding his head towards her as he watched her pull the neatly folded invitation out from the sleeve of paper. "I should inform you that I have one for Mr Todd, also."

Eleanor silently inhaled and snapped her eyes to him - they went noticeably wide. The girl also had her eyes fixated on the Judge's right hand man, the look of shock on her face told Eleanor that the girl probably knew far more about the barber than she'd realised...

"Now I shall bid you good evening, I have a tight timetable to keep. I shall deliver Mr Todd's invitation immediat - "

 _"No!"_ Mrs Lovett near yelled out in panic, slamming her palms onto the counter, her breaths suddenly struggling out of her - patches of blood had practically flashed before her very eyes. "N-No need t'do that, sir. 'E's busy with a customer at the moment, and it'd be awful rude'a ya to interrupt 'is work. I can give it to 'im once 'e's finished."

Beadle Bamford narrowed his eyes in curiosity and over-dramatically sniffed. "I see. I was instructed to hand these slips over to the guests _personally..._ but I suppose that I _am_ in quite the rush."

There was a brief silence, and no one in the room dared even breathe.

After a few more seconds, the abhorrent man fished Mr Todd's envelope from the inside of his coat, his beady eyes on the young girl next to him.

"Do explain to the barber why he was invited. The Judge was more than delighted with the service last time he visited." he spoke, the touch of a smile reaching the corners of his mouth as he felt the invite leave his palm.

Mrs Lovett watched the two of them from the other side of the counter - the young girl was staring the man down silently with spite, and that only led Eleanor to believe the girl had some sort of past with him.

"Looking for an invite?" Beadle drawled sluggishly, raising up his cane (which had a thin sword concealed within) like it was some kind of threat to the tip of her chin. "Unfortunately, the Judge believes that any man who takes business in such painful _grief_ and miserable _decay_ has no place at his table, let alone any _woman._ So we couldn't possibly invite _you."_

The girl scoffed, her grey eyes looking up at him without her head even lifting up.

"Thank god for _that."_ she hissed, her powdery hands clenching into fists. "I wouldn't want to _depress_ you all now, would I?"

Just when Beadle opened his mouth to reply, Eleanor's attention diverted to the door opening once more. She immediately shifted to the opposite end of the counter, beaming a huge smile to the incoming customers. She strained her ears to hear what Beadle was saying over the rising chatter from the people who entered... but she couldn't make out anything.

Secretly, she was grateful that she had a reason not to be involved in Beadle's conversation for any longer...

The brunette woman approached her with a kind smile, "We'd like two pies please, preferably one of them smaller for my son here."

Eleanor set the invites aside and stood on her tip-toes to see the tiny blonde haired boy holding onto his mother's hand, and she shot him a genuinely warm smile, " 'Ello there, love! 'Ow's 'bout I give ya these ones on the 'ouse?"

The boy gasped and nodded with a cheesy grin that visibly met his grey eyes.

"Oh there's no need for that, Mrs Lovett." the woman insisted, eyeing Beadle Bamford to her left with undisclosed worry. "Times are hard, especially for women like us. Please, at least allow me to pay for mine."

Eleanor gave her a defeated smile and sighed, "Very well..."

She caught the woman's gaze and glanced once towards Beadle then returned her eyes to the kind customer, mouthing a silent "Thank you" to her. As she got on and lifted a tray from the shelf beneath her counter, she heard the infernal man's voice address her again.

"Do not forget to hand that invite to Mr Todd, Mrs Lovett. That invite _must_ reach his hand." he ordered, almost spitting out his words - he must have been angered by the young girl. "And I suggest you watch the company you keep in this shop. It could be bad for business. Good day."

She frowned and heaved the tray of fresh pies up to settle onto the counter's top. She blinked in confusion as she saw the man strutting out through her door with a sullen expression, the door slamming after him.

"That man truly has little manners." the woman opposite whispered, and Eleanor couldn't help smiling as she voiced her agreement with a chuckle. "Such a shame that I too have received an invitation, the Judge was certainly insistent that I was to attend."

Eleanor froze, her eyes saddening, " 'Ow insistent?"

The woman frowned at her question, and the little boy was apparently chatting to the undertaker - yet another thing that worried Eleanor far too much for her to think straight.

Digging through her counter's shelf of clutter hurriedly, she tried to find a suitably clean plate for the customers, her mind reeling with newly emerging concerns. What the _hell_ was she going to tell Mr Todd? He had someone blatantly willing to _join in_ on their revenge scheme, not to mention a sworn nemesis inviting them both to a prestigious _party..._ If she knew him as much as she thought she did, she was certain his blood would begin to boil as soon as those facts left her vocal chords.

The young boy's cheerful laughter made her shake her head and grab two of her cleanest plates. She soon popped up to greet the smiling woman again. Placing two of the nicest looking pies from the tray and onto the plates, she glanced over with interest as the undertaker and boy seemed to be in deep conversation in one of her booths.

The girl seemed to have a chip on her shoulder, but she appeared to recognise the innocence and plain goodness in people from the way she was interacting with the young lad.

Suddenly, Eleanor didn't feel so fearful of her.

There was still so much to be explained about the girl, so much to be solved... but for the time being, Mrs Lovett was content with her mysterious presence.

The boy's giggles continued to ring out as his mother handed her the due half-amount in exchange for the plates of pies.

"This way, Nathaniel." his mother called, motioning to the busy courtyard through the windows. The boy let out a groan of disappointment and reluctantly shuffled from the seat next to the girl, following his mother outside obediently.

Silence fell over the shop once more, and Eleanor cleared her throat, the girl turning her head to face her.

"My name is Eva Fiori." she said, so quietly that she was almost inaudible, and so sincere that it was almost that _something_ that Eleanor recognised. "But Miss Fiori will do. Every few days I'll turn up around this time with a few bottles of formaldehyde. I'm sure you could use them to preserve the bodies down in your bake-house, otherwise they're going to decay too much before they can be used. In exchange I'll take any clothes on their person and for whatever I manage to sell, I'll give you half."

Eleanor's concern was plain as day as her brown eyes faltered, "I don't know 'bout that, Miss Fiori. I don't think 'at Mr T would approve - "

"Oh, I know that _he_ won't. But this is ultimately _your_ business. Either way, I'll return every three days, eight-thirty on the dot."

She stood, pulling her tailcoat's sleeves into a neater position on each of her arms. She took one last long look at the tray of pies in front of Eleanor, sighing.

"I hope you make the right decision." she said, nodding towards the baker with hopeful eyes. "Until then..."

She half bowed and then dashed towards the door, carefully opening it before exiting - she ensured she closed it properly before scampering across the cobbles, and towards the crowd of young boys (who were still boisterously playing outside).

Mrs Lovett's eyes flicked to the ceiling above, her eyebrows knitting together.

Why did burdens have to come in lots? She couldn't deal with _one_ thing at once, let alone _several!_


	21. Unaware

The next three hours before closing time passed by in a long, demented blur for Eleanor Lovett. Her brain had been consumed by the thought of how Mr Todd would react - she kept flicking her eyes over to the invitations whenever she was trapped beside her counter, also recalling the sincerity of the mysterious young girl, now known to be named Miss Fiori...

She wouldn't mention the undertaker to Mr Todd. She  _couldn't._ Even if she was going to accept the strange offer of assistance with body disposal... she wouldn't let him catch on. The idea of the Judge's invitation would be enough of a shock for the man, she didn't think adding to that would be a good idea.

And it wasn't like she was  _lying_ to him.

Yet why was it that she felt that feeling of forboding in the pit of her stomach?

That feeling didn't disappear, even when the last of the lingering customers trailed out of her courtyard - with that cue, she started to lock up the doors of her shop - luckily she'd cleared up the majority of plates as she'd dished out pies that evening. Due to her overwhelming concerns she'd felt the need to keep busy at all times.

She huffed out an exhausted sigh once she retired to her parlour, smiling sadly at the bottle of gin on the side-table beside the settee. The cushions, illuminated by the crackling fire, looked inviting, and felt even better once she laid out her fatigued body over the furnishings. For a brief moment, she let herself close her eyes, the only thing she saw was the recent memory of Sweeney's face in the darkness of her bake-house, his deep black eyes studying her features intently...

The sight of him in her mind's eye relaxed her further, her senses completely out of reality, lost in the imaginary world of her dark barber and the retreat by the sea...

Due to her head being away with the fairies, Eleanor wasn't aware that the very man she dreamed of that second, was gently shutting the parlour door, black irises gleaming with seductive intent. His footsteps were quiet thuds, not a single shoe scrape alerting her... she must have been well and truly lost in her slumber.

"Mmm... " she mumbled, to which a smirk grew on his lips, his legs advancing towards her that little bit quicker. "Ohhh Mr T...  _yes..._ do 'at again..."

He raised a brow. It was clear what sort of dream his accomplice was having - apparently their little rendezvous earlier hadn't been enough for her. Well, if he was honest with himself, it hadn't been enough for  _him_ either.

Eventually, he reached her side.

She was sprawled out over the settee, her skull tilted back lazily into her half-pinned mess of faded red locks, and then into the cushions. Due to her position, her throat was completely exposed, so it was only natural for Sweeney to take the opportunity to study the pale flesh there. He wondered whether her positioning was the same in her fantasy... if so, he then pondered about what  _he_ was  _doing_ to her.

His smirk evolved into a wicked grin.

What would happen if he touched her then? Would she wake? Would she lie still, absorbed in fright?

He dropped down, kneeling over the salvaged rug beneath his knees, watching her brief twitches as a smile appeared on her lips. She continued to mutter unrepeatable expressions out of her mouth, and he grinned wider. Deciding he couldn't be passive any longer, he confidently raised an arm up, firmly stroking his thumb over the shape of her jawline.

He expected her to wake in a frenzy, but instead, a low chuckle bubbled from her... he tilted his head to the side, his amusement replaced with somber interest.

He took his hand from her, but only so that he could lean forwards, resting his bent elbows on the couch below. His face hovered over hers, the bridge of his nose almost touching her nose's skin. His intense eyes stared at her peaky eyelids, then trailed over all of her other features that he could see without moving his head. He was certain that she was able to feel the breaths that he was pushing out onto her face... he then presumed, now knowing that Mrs Lovett dreamed of him quite intimately, that her fantasies would probably be full of ridiculously realistic details, so that was probably why she was unaware that he was even there.

 _'In that case... per'aps I should show her that I'm not just some_ figment  _of her imagination?'_ he thought, the glint of mischief in his obsidian eyes evident of a conniving plan.

He pushed himself forwards so that he was even closer, allowing his nose to abruptly nuzzle her - he earned a brief murmur of relaxation from her, but it was clear that she believed it was the perfect version of Sweeney Todd in her brain touching her... not the real, more enticing Sweeney Todd that was keen on pleasuring her, unbeknownst to her.

Sick of watching her fantasize about her perfected barber, he brought his lips down over hers, attacking her without mercy. Her eyes shot open in alarm, and he could feel her writhing beneath him, vibrations reverberating on his lips as she let out a surprised groan into him. His tongue pushed its way through her lips, and that was what finally managed to wake the woman up.

As his hands roamed her body, she wrenched her hands into his hair, clawing at every black lock that her fingers came across, her legs already spreading out so that he could press himself over her easier.

Small whimpers escaped her throat as she reacted back to him eagerly, his hands not delaying in roaming about her torso. The two of them kissed enthusiastically, Eleanor's heart hammering so fast that her worries took a backseat in her mind. Their lips worked feverishly, each of his hands stroking down her sides as he proceeded to kneel over her, ensuring he could attack her lips more successfully.

As his hands stroked their way over to the front of her dress, pressing firmly over the tops of her breasts, he paused...

She continued to smother his mouth with her own, braying her lips hard against him even though he'd stopped dead, frown emerging once his eyes cracked open.

He shoved one of his hands into her cleavage, in an unexpectedly harsh manner, callously pulling his mouth away from her own. She gasped in a deep intake of breath from panic, eyes wide with realisation. His fingers caught hold of something reminiscent of paper and his scowl deepened, the thin item instantly being pulled out of her snug pocket.

"This is not a letterbox, Mrs Lovett." he whispered as an impassive bewilderment came over him. Although what he'd said would have habitually caused her to giggle, she continued to watch him with unvoiced dread, as he curiously studied the writing which was neatly scribed on the exteriors of the two envelopes. She dared not stop him now - he was still half-lying on her, oblivious to her pleading eyes which were telling him to cease what he was doing and kiss her instead.

Wordlessly, he set the opened letter with Eleanor's name on to the side-table behind her head, to which she flinched. Her actions caught his attention and he narrowed his eyes at her. He opened the envelope, never once taking his gleaming eyes from her, he knew she was keeping something from him...

He blindly slid the card from the envelope, dropping his head down in order to read the invitation - but Eleanor swiftly grabbed a light hold of his chin, tipping his head back up to face her.

"I was gonna tell ya, love." she confessed quietly, the pure longing she felt seeping into each syllable. "Please don't be upse - "

He pushed her hand away from his skin, those eyes of his darkening with annoyance as he glared at her.

She felt his entire body tense across her as he ignored her attempt at disuading him from reading the Judge's invite. She observed him intently as an array of emotions passed over his features when his eyes continually trailed from left to right.

"What?" he murmured, the flash of rage seared within his eyes before confusion returned.

He suddenly flung the paper to the side, not caring where it landed over the parlour floor. He turned his hardened gaze on her and she audibly gulped when he closed back in on her, face inches from hers.

"We 'ave him in our hands, Mrs Lovett." he spoke, his voice rising in volume with every letter of each word like it was some sort of warning. "This is what I've been waiting for. Just like you said, my waiting's paid off. It's a chance to strike 'im in a place where he feels safe. Do you realise that, Mrs Lovett? I can finally get him, do you  _understand?"_

She stared up into his glowing eyes, tinged orange-red from the fiery hue inhabiting her parlour. It looked like he was ready to murder the filthy Judge there and then from the way he was staring at her so fiercely.

"B-Beadle Bamford told me to make sure t'tell ya 'at the Judge is ever so grateful f'ya services, thinks the world'a your barber's talents, 'e does." she breathed out in a fast pace, too concerned about his close proximity now he seemed keen on the idea of murder. "Ya reputation's why you've been invited. As 'ave  _I - "_

 _"You?"_ he snapped, eyes ablaze though it was clear his anger wasn't due to her. "He invited  _you?"_

She opened her mouth to reply as she reached her hand to the side-table behind her, but he brought an arm up to latch his palm around her wrist, causing her to gasp out.

Sweeney had already jumped to the worst conclusion. Now that he finally thought Mrs Lovett to be  _his_ in a whole spectrum of different ways, the fact that she had been invited to Turpin's ball was even more personal than it should have been. If the Judge was attempting to take yet another person away from him, the rat was going to fail miserably. For he was no longer Barker, but Todd... a man who'd kill for what belonged to him.

"Neither of us can refuse, love." she said quietly, like she'd read what he was thinking through the shimmering windows of his eyes. "Ya know that if anyone's invited t'somethin' like 'is, that it'd be unheard of t'turn it down."

"Then we can't be seen together." he whispered, eyes widening like he'd realised something. "In order for me to get that rat, you are to leave me be for the entire night, is that understood?"

She saw smoky sincerity warped into his rage - she then flinched nervously when he brushed his body over her, raising each of his hands up to cup her face brashly. His serious emotion didn't fool her. It was a cracked mask... she could tell from that element of disgust flickering within his hatred.

She would obey him, but she already knew that it was unlikely that he would leave  _her_ alone. Given that the event was occurring in the same building as Lucy had visited, it would be clear that he would keep a watchful eye on her... or so she thought, given his recently overly-possessive behaviour.

Perhaps it was more  _hoped_ , than thought.

" ' O course, love. I can 'old me own for a night, can't I?" she slyly hinted, giving him a small, sad smile. "Any hassle and I know wot ta do."

He tilted his head slightly, like he hadn't anticipated her reply and scoffed in disbelief, amusement filling his eyes.

"You would know what to do, would you?" he questioned with a sharp edge to his louder volume. "From the way you are with me, I'm sure you'd let any man 'ave their way with you without a care in the world. You wouldn't do an ounce of real  _harm,_ now, would you?"

She knew he was filled with rage.

But she certainly wasn't allowing him to take it out on her.

Her eyes were reminiscent of a rusty metallic mace as she looked up at him, defying his icy amusement with a swing of her gaze, breaking his disbelief into shattered shards of ice.

In that moment, even Sweeney Todd knew he'd strayed too far into glassy void. He truly had  _no idea_  what Eleanor Lovett was capable of - nor did he know exactly what she'd been through in those fifteen years of silence.

From her expression -  _one that was so full of defiance and determination -_ he knew that his condescending remark had been undeniably  _incorrect._

"You have before, haven't you?" he breathed, eyes wide with shock and part guilt for underestimating her.

Her brown eyes cut into him with poisonous rejection, though a smirk soon emerged on her pouting lips. It caused her to appear much more tempting and dangerous in the flaming glow of the room. Finally, her true form was out for him to see.

He gaped at her, brows raised as she lifted her chin towards him, lips hovering by his.

"Times were 'ard, Mr T," she whispered, eyelids drooping down as she breathed her words out onto his mouth's skin. "desperate measures were called for. Lot easier now 'at you're 'ere bein' such an' 'elpful 'and..."

His breaths started to become ragged, his eyes focused on the movement of her hypnotising lips. He let out an audible sigh when he felt her fingers threading through his hair once more.

"Back then, 'ad t'get rid'o me own problems. Albert bein' one of 'em..."

He held back the urge to groan as she began to massage his scalp, though where her conversation was headed was also fairly pleasing to his ears too.

"... always eatin' me out of 'ouse an' 'ome, 'e was. So much so that I 'ad nothin' left to sell most days. Couldn't be havin' 'im lurchin' 'bout the place like 'at, could I? The man could barely stand."

For once, Mr Todd was hanging onto her every word, his body relaxing with every circle pattern that her thumb drew on his scalp. His mouth was still agape, and inches from hers - with every sinful word that passed through those lips of hers, it drove him closer to violently snatching her up again.

"Ol' Albert was jus' convenience, at first." she sighed, brows lifting into reluctant acceptance as her eyes were drawn to his open mouth. "Then after 'at... convenience wi' no reward. Then 'gain, that made 'im easier t'get rid of..."

Internally, Sweeney Todd was a furnace. The woman had no idea how much lust she caused him to feel. To know that she too, had breached into the realms of taking another life, it was  _alluring_ to him. No, obscenely  _voluptuous._

She was fascinating him with her every word. Every  _breath._ Every  _movement._

To know that she'd yearned for Benjamin to claim her as his for so long... and to instead, become  _Todd's..._

The idea alone made him shiver, her lips still seductively opening and closing before him as more details of how she made herself a widow poured out of her vocal chords.

When she spoke of murder in that husky tone, it was like music to his ears, and he suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

"I always say that 'is greed was 'is downfall." she continued - he could tell that she sensed how she was affecting him, for her chest heaved upwards and downwards rapidly, brushing against his front. "Everyone believes me an' all. Wot reason would  _I_  'ave t'be lyin' about it all?"

That conniving mouth of hers parted as she paused to take in a deep breath. He growled and darted inwards, catching her mouth in a heated kiss. The two of them moaned in unison, enjoying the feel of one another when he pressed his body into her. He pulled away for a moment and brought up a hand to pull her hair in order to keep her head back. "Bedroom,  _now."_ he near moaned, mouth pressed to her ear.

He took himself away from her, but only so he could leap to his feet.

If she wasn't flustered before, she certainly was when she finally got to her feet. She felt that treasured anticipation bleeding through her being, and it was stronger than it had been earlier that day. She could practically feel his lust searing out of him as she passed him, and then passed the fireplace, headed to her bedroom.

He watched every detail as her hips swung to-and-fro, and a smirk tugged on his lips once he caught her already taking a few pins out of her hair before she even reached her door.

Taking a step forward as she disappeared through the door-frame, he took a glance down to the floor below...

His discarded invitation and envelope stared back at him and he clenched his teeth, like the thing was trying to stop him from what he was about to do.

But  _nothing_ could have ever stopped him then.

He let out an audible snarl (he was almost certain she would have heard from her room), and gathered the paper from the floor, swiftly turning back to claw up Eleanor's invite too.

He marched across to the fireplace, eyes reflecting the scarlets and oranges within the flickering flames.

He poised his hands, ready to throw the letters in.

In that moment, he urged himself to do so. He couldn't risk losing Eleanor. The strength of how much he wanted her then proved that much.

Before his hands let go of the fragile papers, he heard a loud, airy moan float from her bedroom... his hands shook with anticipation and he growled with frustration, throwing the letters over the floor behind him.

It seemed that balancing out his revenge and his craving for Mrs Lovett, was proving rather problematic...

It was lucky that he could satisfy one of his hungers.

For the time being...

_... at least._


	22. Volatile

Sweeney's mind was alert, even though it was the early hours. Sleep was something that he was certain would never come now. His train of thought was too focused on his late wife for him to drift off - it was like the living woman lying over the mattress beside him was non-existent, and instead the obscured ghost of Lucy took him over. His eyes gleamed with such sadness, such  _guilt_ as they sliced through the darkness, disrupting the smoke-like shadows. He lay there on his side, contemplating whether he should have even been there in his accomplice's bed at that moment.

He should have left before anything had even started.

At least, that's what he told himself.

However, his guilt did not stop the memories of what had happened those few hours before from flooding back. The sight of Eleanor writhing beneath him due to such dreamlike pleasures engulfing her completely, her impossibly soft skin brushing over his own, the heat that had emitted from their bodies was almost  _suffocating..._

He tried with all his might to conjure up any and  _all_  memories of Lucy Barker, even details that he'd never attempted to think about before. Yet he had no such luck where his late wife was concerned, muscles of his arms tensing with aggravation as self-hatred swept over him.

He scowled and squeezed his eyelids harder, attempting to banish the volatile, yet shiver-inducing thoughts of Eleanor Lovett. He felt foolish for allowing her to steal away his thoughts and senses once again... but it was something that occurred more often than his subconscious tended to admit.

He let out a light hum of annoyance when he shuffled his body uncomfortably, like he was physically battling his subconscious to suppress his desire for the dozing baker beside him.

At his quiet murmur of discomfort, Eleanor's eyes cracked open easily. The view of him with his back to her was unexpected, and she only just concealed a gasp.

She hadn't anticipated seeing him laying by her side... especially  _all evening._ She thought he'd already left the room and headed to his usual sleeping spot on the settee in the parlour,  _at most._

At first, she quietly studied him, presuming that he was deeply asleep like she had been moments before... until she heard him sigh with frustration and shift slightly beneath the covers.

He was awake, and it was clear that he was distressed for some reason.

She felt that she couldn't possibly return to her own slumber now that she knew he hadn't left her to sleep all alone. She let her eyes shut as she felt goosebumps develop all over her body, even under the warmth of her bed-covers.

She carefully shuffled over to him and stroked her hand over his bare shoulder, lightly pressing her body to his back before he could stir and stop her.

His eyes opened wider as her warm skin brushed over him, and internally he was  _furious_ at her - she'd yet again infected his thoughts about his late wife. She'd hijacked his brain so that he could now only focus on her, only feel the pleasure which surged through him with each minor touch to his senses.

He gritted his teeth and winced, urging that his anger with her overrided his pleasure... but with each fingertip that trailed over his the skin of his back, that was seeming less likely to win out.

His irritation disappeared immediately when he felt her grazing her parted lips over him. He inhaled deeply, and not one slither of guilt was present in his mind... he was lost in Eleanor again, wondering what the sight of her looked like in the darkness as she pressed kisses to his skin.

His tension eased as he felt one of her hands tracing over the side of his neck, and then up to the side of his cheek. He tried to hold back his deep breath of relaxation, but it was too strong to withold.

Her lips curved against him as she let out a shamelessly salicious chuckle, and he felt as if he was surrounded by flames because wherever she touched, she left a trail hot shivers. He involuntarily hummed as her lips left him momentarily, but only so she could trail the bridge of her nose up his back, all the way up to his jet-coloured hair - where she nuzzled into his locks to engulf herself in his aroma.

Her soft lips gently enveloped around his earlobe, her hands caressed their way down from the sides of his neck to the bottom of his ribs - she took a hand away for a second to push the bedcovers off the rest of his body.

 _"Eleanor... what are you do... "_ he murmured, trailing off when she brought up her fingers in order to lace through his locks again. When she reached his warm scalp beneath, she lightly kneaded the sensitive skin and earned a relaxed sigh from him.

"Shh..." she hushed, pressing her front to the skin of his spine - he audibly breathed out harshly in response, yet didn't dare to stop her now.

He frowned with bewilderment when he felt her arm pulling him backwards so that he could lie out flat on his spine. Finding that he had no reason to refuse, he obeyed her unexpected command.

He stayed silent, even when he heard and felt her skin moving to the side of him.

Once he finally opened his eyes , he immediately caught her gaze now that she was half-above him, their noses touching briefly as she climbed over his body.

She straddled over him, not saying a word as she stared at him with apparent intoxciation. His own eyes widened with curiosity, and then arousal at both sight and feel of her. She was unusually silent as she brought her lips down to his, slowly yet firmly working their lips into a steady rythm.

Other than the two of them lightly moaning it was pleasantly quiet. He was sure that it would only remain for the time being, he'd come to know that Eleanor Lovett wasn't one for staying  _quiet._

For a man that had previously despised himself for taking pleasure in Eleanor Lovett, he was certainly quick to change his mind... or  _forget_ the matter of self-loathing altogether.

Then again she  _had_ taken him by surprise.

As their kisses became more heated, and his hands reached around her to settle beneath her breasts - he was unaware that one of his thumbs was resting directly over her pumping heart. And this sent the adoration she had for him surging all throughout her veins - it urged her to push further, to cross the line that she had never had the confidence to cross before.

He let out a gruff sound of irritation as she left his lips, her hands receding from his hair. Her body sunk down over his, her head tilting downwards to place kisses over his chest, trailing them down his toned abdomen...

If Sweeney Todd's eyes widened anymore than they had when her hands stroked down to settle across each of his strained thighs, his eyeballs would have popped out and he would have surely gone blind. He watched with intrigue as she parted his legs, his brow already glistening from his growing anticipation.

"What do you think y -  _ugh!"_

His voice hitched in his throat as he sucked in a wheeze of air. Her hot mouth had finally come into contact with his throbbing skin - his reaction was enough for her to presume that he hadn't experienced a pleasure like that before.

She teased him, taking her lips away from him completely to peer up at him with feigned worry. At the lack of attention his crotch was getting, he frowned down at her, attempting to conceal his shallow breaths. For some reason, he was trying to hide his pleasured shock...

"Don't  _stop,_ for god's sake!  _Do that again."_ he whispered out harshly, and her dirty chuckle burst out of her before she could hinder herself. He growled with impatience and brought his hands down, tangling his fingers in her auburn curls as he pushed her head back down, her mouth still full of low giggles even as she ate him up.

He groaned out, oblivious to how loud he was when she worked him quietly. He tossed back his head, his volume rising when she raised her pace and slid her hands back and forth over his thighs. His sounds of obscene pleasure made her shiver and whimper, and it seemed that he picked up on the minor things his actions had caused...

It drove him deeper into an abyss of gratification, his blood pumping through him with such force that it lead to his hips bucking upwards, and he met the insides of her mouth faster.

He immediately leaned forward with amazement when he felt her moan out louder over him than she had before - his saucer-like eyes watched the movement of one of the hands she'd reached down between her legs... he appeared even more  _fascinated_ when he attempted to comprehend how she'd managed to transition into a different position without him noticing.

He was soon moaning in time with her, hands stroking down from the curls on her head to cling onto her back.

She persisted to pleasure him, never ceasing to build up a faster pace as she too found that her noises of satisfaction were gaining in volume. The feel of what she was doing was a mind-blowing wonder and he'd completely let go of himself, disregarding any indecisive rationality in order to free-fall into endless indulgence.

It wasn't too long before their moans and their bodies finally reached their peak, and they both shook violently, tightly gripping to each other as exasperated breaths panted out loudly. They stayed clenching against one another for a moment whilst they tried to steady their breaths, waves of elation still sweeping through them both completely.

He groaned out one last time as her mouth left him, the warmth of her body over his also fading as she clambered off him, returning to her side of the bed.

Heart still racing, Sweeney studied her with confused yet contented eyes, unable to hide his gawp of disbelief due to what Eleanor Lovett had just done to him...  _for him._

He sat up slightly when she shuffled back down to her usual sleeping position - where she curled one leg out of the covers and outstretched the one beneath them. In doing so, her dainty leg met with his tensed thigh and he inhaled sharply at the contact. It hadn't seemed intentional at first... but then she started to move her limb's skin back and forth against him gently.

He swallowed, staring at her peaceful expression - her face was ever so attractive, even then in the darkness. Her emotion made him question whether the experience of his pleasure had even happened...

But it wasn't long before her eyes shot open, much like a window shutter, the most powerful look of lust burning into his shock due to his sexual fulfilment.

Those brown eyes of hers were confirmation that she had more than  _enjoyed_ what had just happened between them...

Another split second, and they were veiled by her greyed lids again...

... leaving Sweeney Todd to wonder what the hell had just happened.

And wondering what on Earth he had done for her to perform such a risky act on him...


	23. After-thoughts

Eight-thirty, every night for a week, like clockwork - Miss Fiori was there at Mrs Lovett's Emporium.

She'd occupy the same booth each time - the one directly beside the windows, hat tipped over her eyes (which completely defeated the point of her being next to a row of windows). She was never talkative. And she never once reminded Eleanor of her strange offer. It seemed like the only time she ever attempted to converse was to either politely greet Mrs Lovett, or in thanks after she paid for a shot of gin or two.

Her little routine continued until the day of the Judge's ball.

On that day she arrived during the lunch hour, which took Mrs Lovett completely off-guard. The baker shouldn't have been so irked about the undertaker being there... but she was because her early attendance clearly inferred that the young girl  _knew_ that the shop would be closed for the evening...

Though the presence of the girl was persistently invading Eleanor's thoughts, she managed to focus on the work of her lunch hour. She told herself she was being ridiculous, especially considering that Mr T never strayed from his shop during the day - so any confrontation between them two would be unlikely.

Not only was the presence of the undertaker off-putting, the behaviour of the lunch-crowd was obnoxiously loud. It was  _countless_ the amount of times that Eleanor had to refuse to serve someone because of their rude insistence,  _countless_  the number of times she had to chuck someone out for trying to initiate a fight with another customer.

Their custom was becoming less desirable.

But at least she didn't have to deal with them that evening.

She closed up at five in the afternoon - the young undertaker was the last to leave. As Mrs Lovett opened her shop door in order to lock up -  _more like politely_ infer  _that the last one left was to leave_ \- the girl glided towards her, tipping her hat.

"I hope you have a bearable night." the girl murmured, her tone deadpan as she finally set on leaving her usual place. "You ought to tread carefully, Mrs Lovett. The Judge's celebrations are always notorious for laying out...  _assumptive judgements."_

Eleanor had her hand poised over the door's latch as she held it open, Eva turning to face her more directly once she had neared - something about the smudged soot around her eyes and mouth seemed  _worse_ on this particular afternoon. Now that Mrs Lovett had noticed such a thing, it unsettled her.

"Please, do be careful."

Eleanor frowned at her, about to unleash a bombardment of confused questions but the girl had already passed by her to exit, adjusting the coat over her shoulders as she slowly faded into the current of civilians pouring into Fleet Street.

She had sensed something off ever since she'd woken up that morning. And she got the feeling the her sense of ill-will wasn't just going to disappear.

It already seemed as if it was  _swelling._

* * *

She sighed as she pulled out an old burgundy dress that she'd found at the back of her wardrobe - presumably one she'd not only  _acquired_ , but most likely  _stolen_ at some point... she didn't occupy her brain with such trivial matters and she slung the thing on, tightening the laces so that her breasts popped up and threatened to spill out from the so-called  _neckline_ of the corset.

Well... she knew Mr Todd would still be attending the ball, so there was always the chance to impress him - or make him  _jealous_ \- so there was no need for scrimping with her appearance.

At the thought of the barber, her once cheerful excitement dropped. The look of sadness swept over her features as she peered back at her own reflection - each pane of mirror-glass was slightly warped due to the age of the vanity, and she suddenly felt disappointed... not to mention,  _vulnerable._ She'd be without him the entire night, even if she saw him she wasn't to approach him. That's what he'd said.

And she did not dare disobey the man. The Judge was likely to die that night, and the last thing she wanted to do was delay the rat's death even further.

She was aware she'd told Mr Todd to wait but...

... she too, was growing slightly  _impatient_ at this point.

She blinked out of her thoughts and twisted her hair up into its habitual mess, where the pins strained against her skull from all the auburn curls they had to hold.

Seeing as her face looked rather peaky, she reached into one of the vanity's drawers, snatching out a small tin of red lip salve. She'd bought the stuff years ago and seeing as it had been such a heart-wrenching price, she hardly used the stuff... but seeing as this was a  _one-off_ occasion, now was a good time to put the stuff to use.

She dabbed her finger into the pale-red substance, smearing a small amount on both of her lips. Shoving the tin back into the murky depths of her dresser's drawers, she applied some rouge powder, but took care in not going completely over the top.

Once she was finished, she adjusted a couple of the pins taming back her curls, giving herself an unsure look as she stared back at her reflection.

"S'pose it'll be good enough..." she murmured, sighing from low-esteem once she turned away and returned to the wardrobe, unhooking her overcoat from its coat hanger.

" 'Ope I'm not too early..." she muttered to herself worriedly. She and Mr Todd had agreed to attend the event separately. If it was to go to plan, Sweeney was to arrive first, some half-an-hour before her, so no suspicions were to be aroused.

It was  _killing_ her not being able to be with him, but she was sure she'd bear it, so long as it was one night...

She huffed to herself, buttoning up her coat over her. She headed towards her bedroom door... and glanced back to the invitation she'd left on top of the dresser...

 _That_ had been more than an  _after-thought..._

It was a good job it had been, otherwise she'd have bumped straight into the barber - he'd been stood in front of her closed door, black eyes glued to the doorknob. The look he wore was unreadable, but it was clear from his actions that he didn't truly wish to spend the night alone...

Upon hearing the scuffles of her feet from inside, he sighed heavily, swiftly turning on his heels.

Leaving without Mrs Lovett by his side seemed to be  _his_ after-thought.

_It was an after-thought that she'd never know about._


	24. It's An Oblivious Occasion

The exterior of the Judge's residence was a lot more elaborate than it needed to be, but Eleanor Lovett had already expected the place to be like that. Unlike everyone else who was loitering outside and studying the building in wonder, she climbed the steps up to the front doors, eager to get inside.

She plastered a smile on her face, her invitation held snugly between her fingers as she approached the open doors over the Judge's porch. Beadle Bamford was stood to the side of the doorway, deep in conversation with an established-looking gent wearing a dinner jacket. His discussion didn't stop him from taking his eyes away from the man for a moment to send her a nauseating grin as he snatched the invite out of her hands, nodding towards her.

She kept her arms close to her sides as she exhaled a deep breath and headed through to the main entrance. Before she could enter properly, a member of the house staff shrugged her coat from her, swiftly draping it over their arm before they bowed.

After getting over the shock of being  _served,_  the place was a sight to behold - columns everywhere where there was any excuse to have any, hand painted murals hogging the place of wallpaper - though such artwork seemed  _pointless_ because most of the deep red curtains that had been hung up obscured the full pieces - and a geometric marble floor that was far too disorientating for Eleanor's liking.

She hadn't felt safe outside. **..**

But now she felt dizzy... and  _trapped_. Now that she realised that she was one of the few guests that was attending the event on their own, she felt excluded.

The entire place was bubbling with conversation, laughter and the clink of glasses. For once, she felt completely out of her depth.

Eleanor was visibly uncomfortable, eyes darting around the lobby, which was crammed full of socialites and budding elites, accusing eyes and flaunting eyelashes. She felt like she was the centre of attention as she glided by the dense mass of somebodies, and for once, she wished that she was nothing more than a translucent apparition.

Amongst the guests around her, another one of the house staff managed to shove a glass into her palms, though she was too preoccupied with staring at the high ceiling above her to really understand what was happening.

The Judge's  _house_ was more of a  _palace,_ and she was  _amazed_  - but she wasn't envious at all. Such an enormous building would probably be lonely. Or it would be enough to make someone  _paranoid._

Her slippy palms cupped around the glass of wine like it was some kind of poisonous chalice that she dared not sip from. If she was honest, she  _was_ suspicious of the stuff. She moved forwards carefully, dropping her eyes from the carved ceiling to focus on moving through the sedate atmosphere of the party guests. She reluctantly scanned her eyes over the room, out of nervous vulnerability more than anything.

_Crooked noses, narrowed eyes, stern lines for mouths, envious knife-stares, clawed hands around the stems of wine glasses, sniffs of judgement, lovers mingling away from the persuasive entrepreneurs, accusers and loathers..._

_Strangers_ were all that she could see.

All she craved for in that minute was someone  _familiar_ to calm her rapidly beating heart. She could hear the sound of her discomfort reaching her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a second, trying to swallow the feeling down...

But it was futile.

She felt completely alone, even though the enormous foyer around her was filled with chattering humans.

She opened her eyes again, exhaling a shuddering breath as she felt tears threatening to spill over. She hated this so-called  _party_ and she'd only just got there. She wished she had refused to attend, she didn't care if it went against her appearances. She should never have set foot at the Judge's residence, let alone the cobbles outside.

It was no place for a woman like her.

Certainly not all by herself.

A clean, high pitched tinkling suddenly alerted the majority of the guests, a hush falling over the entire place. It seemed that Eleanor had arrived in time for a speech of some sort. She'd kind of hoped to  _miss_ such a thing...

Everyone around the host took a few steps back, allowing The Judge to speak like he had complete authority over everything. When in truth... he had no idea that one man in that crowd was raring for a chance to slit his throat open. A little smile crawled onto Eleanor's lips, at least  _that_ thought made her feel a little less uneasy.

"Thank you, everyone." the man spoke, voice projecting loudly so that even the back of the packed room could hear him. He was beaming a huge grin as he nodded towards the guests directly in front of him.

"I hope, with my most humble wishes, that everyone in attendance this evening has a magnificent time. This is a celebration of the success and future growth of our dear city of London. Please, take pleasure in tonight. You all deserve it."

The crowd clapped and murmured in praise as he held his arm out to a significantly younger girl, and she took his hand obediently. Like the Judge's short speech had been some sort of cue, a quartet started to play a waltz, and it was clear that the repulsive man had the entire room under his control. As he and the young girl went into a hold position, a few other couples joined them on the clearing between the guests towards the stairs. They began to dance, and it wasn't long before most of the room joined them too.

Feeling completely uncomfortable with the situation (if it had been any  _other_ host, she would have thought the gesture was lovely), Eleanor took a few steps back.

She looked around the lobby in hopes of finding somewhere quieter, somewhere where she wouldn't look silly all on her own. In desperation, she spotted some tables situated in a more vacant area of the place, though the odd guest still loitered there - presumably they'd had the same idea. She pushed by several dancing guests and waiting staff, not caring how many people she disturbed to flee to the place that wasn't so crowded.

Once she arrived, she attempted to relax but ended up standing awkwardly. Trying to occupy herself somehow, she finally took a sip from the glass she was holding, her eyes studying the deep red colour of the drink as she swallowed it down. She needed  _anything_ to distract her.

Before her heart rate finally settled down, someone brashly pushed by her left shoulder. She held onto the urge to shove them twice as hard in response, biting back the fiery profanity eager to spew from her mouth - the last thing that she wanted to do now was cause a scene. She gave them no attention, fearing it was just some other meaningless, cackling stranger with scrutinising eyes.

"You look...  _different..."_ a familiar voice murmured in monotone - the scent that was distinctly Sweeney Todd hit her almost immediately once he'd spoken.

She widened her eyes and quickly spun to face him. She inhaled deeply at the sight of him. Seeing him so smart and formal made her heart twinge - she had only  _dreamed_ of seeing him in such a way at a wedding or  _funeral,_ not some forgettable social event. Then again, he perhaps wanted to look his best, given his intent to  _murder._

Suddenly, her heart doubled its rate.

The man had managed to acquire a slim fitting button-down shirt from somewhere or  _someone,_ then a tailored pinstriped waistcoat to match his usual trousers. For some reason, she couldn't take her eyes away from the neat black tie that was knotted around his collar - she was tempted to grab hold of the end of the thing and pull him nearer so that she could bring his mouth close to hers...

Her eyes soon reluctantly trailed upwards, and she bit into her bottom lip as she studied his cleanly shaven jawline - the fresh shadow around his mouth made her fingers twitch around her wine glass. She just wanted to run her fingers over his skin... then perhaps push her lips over him too. His hair was the only other usual thing about him, unkempt and free, just the way she loved it to be. That only caused her to lose herself in him even more. The once  _looming_ guests were practically figments of her imagination around them both now.

"Don't look so bad y'self, Mr T..." she finally replied - even though her tone was empty, it was clear that it was because her anxiety been replaced with overwhelming, dreamy lust for the barber.

_Her wish for a distraction had arrived._

He smirked at her, dark eyes studying over her with indiscreet vigour. He didn't think that she could look more attractive than she did habitually, but he had been ever so  _wrong_. However, if he was honest with himself, he did prefer the way she looked whenever she rushed to get up on a morning - or once she'd done a hard day's work and she had that sentimental glow about her.

Having said that, he wasn't complaining now that he could see how much a bit of effort changed about her.

" 'Avin' a nice evenin'?" she asked quietly. He sensed an ulterior motive to her question... and from the look in her eyes he could tell what it was that she was  _really_ thinking about.

"Of course not, Mrs Lovett." he snapped curtly and his smirk grew as he looked around them for a moment, checking no one was watching before he took a step closer to her. "I'm not here to enjoy tonight, am I? I'm keepin' tabs on  _an associate."_

She let out a quiet chuckle, "I know 'at. But y'could at least try an' enjoy it an' all... I mean, I know it must be 'ard considerin' wot's 'appened 'ere bef - "

 _"You_ seem t'be enjoyin' yourself,  _don't you?"_ he cut in, nodding towards the glass in her hands. "I never knew you liked  _wine."_

She realised immediately why he'd diverted her from the subject of what she was about to bring up, but at the same time, she couldn't help but be shocked at the fact he'd  _noticed_ something about her without any delay... but she was sure that  _interest_ wasn't his true intention.

"Well, there's 'lotta things ya don't know 'bout me, love." she whispered - at the suggestive tone of her voice, his eyes visibly darkened. "Jus' 'ave ta explore a bit, an' I'm sure you'll find wot ya been lookin' for all along."

He hummed in reply and pursed his lips in thought, his furrowed brow not matching the fervid eyes that shone at her.

He pretended to be clueless. But he knew  _exactly_ what she was referring to. The last thing he'd wanted that night was to be  _distracted_ by her - he'd told her to keep away from him, but like a moth to a flame,  _he'd_ been the one unable to keep himself from  _her._

"Anyway, thought we was menna stay 'way from each other tonight, dear." she said a little louder, pressing the edge of the glass to her plump lips as she peered at him with uninterrupted interest... her alluring appearance mixed with her agonisingly slow actions couldn't have been more tempting to Sweeney. "Yet 'ere we are. Like ya said, ya got someone to keep an eye on, so there's no need t'be standin' 'ere wi' me - "

 _"Of course there is."_ he whispered fiercely. His scowl deepened and his eyes widened as she tipped her head back slightly, letting more of the scarlet-tinted wine trickle into her mouth.

She took the rim of the glass away from her lips, smirking at him as his realisation that he'd voiced his thoughts finally sunk in.

When he opened his mouth to draw attention away from what he admitted, a scuffle of approaching steps broke their chain of conversation...

A youthful man of no more than twenty was clearly headed their way, golden hair combed back neatly and green eyes twinkling with courage. His dinner suit was a pale brown, like he had attempted to co-ordinate his outfit to his appearance - but he hadn't quite managed to pull it off.

He seemed unaware that Sweeney was present next to Eleanor, otherwise he probably wouldn't have stopped directly in front of her, with a face that lit up shamelessly.

"Pardon me, ma'am. I hope you do not mind me intruding, but I could not help noticing that you seemed rather uncomfortable as you walked in here. Being alone at this gathering, I'd rather appreciate some company myself. Would you care to dance?"

"Oh..." Eleanor struggled for words, blush painting her cheeks - the young man presumed it was because of his gesture or the age difference between them, but in truth, she was getting hotter due to the fact she was dying to  _refuse_ and publicly declare her love for the barber next her... then again some of that wine had  _definitely_ gone to her head. "W-Well I - "

"No,  _son._  She doesn't  _care_ to  _dance."_ Sweeney butted in, for the third time that evening, but this time, he was positively  _livid_ and he didn't mask the deathly expression that came over his black eyes. "I think that question's a tad  _inappropriate_ to aska  _newly engaged_ woman, don't you? Especially when her  _fiancé_ is stood right 'ere next to 'er."

The young man's pink cheeks blushed a furious red as Eleanor audibly gasped out. The young lad immediately swivelled, eyes wide when he began to run off through the rows oblivious guests, either from fear or pure  _embarrassment._

The barber held in a snort.

 _"Sweeney_ bleedin'  _Todd!"_ she breathed out in a wheeze of exclamation, turning to the irked man with a gawp. "Wot in 'eaven's name were  _that?!"_

He smirked at her, his impish eyes flicking away from the fleeing youngster to settle on her shocked expression.

"Entertainment, pet." he whispered, those eyes glinting at her with such dark mirth and ill-will. It was clear that he was probably  _fantasising_ \- though she wasn't sure whether it was  _murder_ or pleasures of the flesh that had caused his stare to develop into something so  _intense._

Either way, she felt a hot flush fall over her cheeks, and she bit into her bottom lip out of habit.

"W-Wot? Wot made it so funny then? The lad's reaction or the... thought'a bein' e-engaged ta me?" she asked, her voice a little sharper from the lump of sadness evolving in her throat.

His smirk dropped but that look in his eyes wasn't going anywhere. She exhaled loudly and her hands tightened around the glass of wine when he reached a hand up, trailing his fingers across her left cheek - she wanted to do  _so much_ to him, even then. And she had a suspicion that the same feeling of lust was surging through him too.

He lowered his face slightly, eyes drooping down as his lips neared hers. Now that he was closer to her, she could smell wine on his breath...  _no,_ she could practically  _taste_ it. What a handsome  _hypocrite_ he was...

"Should we dance?" he whispered, the undertones of his want overshadowing his awkwardness for not knowing what the two of them should do...  _other than what his brain was conjuring up._ And it was probably partly because he wanted to smugly guide her about the place, showing her off to any other man that dared to think they had a chance with her.

She frowned at his strange expression as she realised what he'd just asked, "You feelin' alright, love?"

"Yes, of course."

She looked at him sceptically, smiling at his slight intoxication - though she was unsure what had caused it.

"I'm  _fine,_ Mrs Lovett. The reason I asked is 'cause the Judge is  _over there,_ and I can't dance all by myself to keep an eye on 'im. It would look stupid."

She let out a dirty chuckle, and he could feel the front of his trousers tighten slightly. The last time she'd laughed like that had been when her mouth had been around a certain part of him, and that fact alone was enough to disorientate him.

"S'pose ya right there," she answered, setting down her almost empty glass onto a tray that had been left on a surface behind them. "couldn't 'ave ya lookin' like a right burke, could I? Though... let's be honest, Mr T... I'm sure it's not just so ya can listen to the ol' Judge now, is it?"

His eyes scolded her, but she saw that he was silently agreeing with her when a twitch of a smirk played on his lips - which were directly before her own. He secretly loved the fact that after a bit of wine, she seemed to let her true flirty self spill out through her mouth.

"C'mon then, no time like the present." she sighed, acting like him wanting to dance was some kind of  _chore_  - but it was clear she was eager to join him because she'd already snatched hold of his hand.

She was about to drag him in the direction of the other couples - the Judge and his companion must have integrated in between all of the guests so they'd probably have to dance for a quite a while before they could get sight of him.

Strangely, as she started to move closer towards the crowd, he laced his fingers with hers tightly and he kept up with her enthusiastic pace. He ignored her curious eyes as they studied him with confusion, her face ever so close to his even as they made their way over there...

Once there was a bit more room, they moved into position. Sweeney clasped his hand around hers a little more gently this time as his other arm snaked around her middle. She slowly slid her hands over the front of his chest and held onto the lapels of his waistcoat for support. Frowning at Eleanor's reluctance to look up at him, he yanked her in closer, the top of her hair brushing the tip of his nose.

She was  _confused._

She thought that he was tricking her somehow... then again, he had no reason to do so. He was being far more open and flexible with her on this night - then again, that could have been the thrill of the impending murder he was  _dying_ to commit. She'd never been on the receiving end of that murderous gaze just yet, and convinced herself that he was wearing that particular expression at that moment. But he wasn't. It was all in her head.

Her brain couldn't believe what they were doing. They were acting like a couple  _publicly_ and... Sweeney hadn't thought anything of it. He'd even played with the idea of them being  _engaged..._

Her glazed over eyes focused on their feet, hypnotised by their footwork as they began to dance.

"What is it?" Sweeney breathed out next to her ear, and she was certain he was lingering there.

"You're actin' all... funny-like." she whispered back, eyes widening as her blush returned. She still didn't lift her head up to face him.

His frown deepened as he looked over her shoulder, his mouth still dangerously near to her ear. He was analysing the guests as they continued to dance, trying to at least move one step closer to his nemesis.

"I know wot you're like, Mr T." she carried on, unaware that he was distracted as he searched the attendees with a hunter's gaze. "An' this ain't you. Wot's eatin' at ya? It can't be just 'cause a certain  _Barnaby Rudge_ needs a certain  _artery_ trimmed, I'm not barmy!"

He inhaled sharply at her words, eyes narrowing, "Don't say that, Mrs Lovett. What if someone just heard you?"

"Well... if they knew wot I jus' said then we'd be  _fucked,_ wouldn't we?" she replied curtly, finally raising her head up to face him now that she had a burst of confidence.

He couldn't resist gazing into her defiant eyes now that he had the chance again, and his mouth twitched as he held back the urge to cackle. He admired her confidence in the people around them - it was highly likely that they were of such a high class that they wouldn't understand a word she said, whether they heard her or not.

But either way, she was completely right.

"Is that wot I think it is?" she gasped out in a whisper, beaming a cheeky smile at him as she watched his mouth. "You was gonna  _laugh,_ weren't ya?!"

"No." he answered in usual monotone, but the corners of his mouth were still slightly upturned.

 _" 'Course_ ya weren't. It's such a  _crime_ f'ya t'be human, but not so wrong f'ya to bump off -  _ow!"_

He smirked at her, taking his shoe away from the top of her boot, "It was a necessary precaution, pet. Who knows what's in that wine of 'is... Must've been a truth serum 'cause you want to tell everyone our secrets  _apparently."_

She pouted at him then slammed down her foot in the wrong place on purpose, the sole of her boot crushing over the toes of his shoe.

He clenched his teeth at her, but then dropped his wince completely, his annoyance mixing into something more mischievous.

"What was that for,  _Eleanor?"_ he teased quietly, eyes narrowing in challenge. "There was no need for that, was there?"

" 'Course there were! Can't 'ave ya thinkin' ya know the ins and outs of me all of a sudden, can I?" she breathed, suddenly pressing her front into him slightly as she raised her head and consequently brushed her nose against his. He swallowed and couldn't tear his eyes from her now that she'd gotten closer to him.

"I know you a lot more than you know." he quipped, his thoughts stealing control of his vocal chords.

She snorted at him, and he knew that she was holding back that dirty laugh of hers - she must have realised the effect it had on him from before.

"I do." he continued, smirking when her eyes shined with playful wonder. "Well... per'aps I'd need to get to know the  _ins_ of you a bit more... but I assure you I certainly know the  _outs."_

Her eyes widened in excitement and her hands on his chest suddenly slid upwards, purposely pressing into him so that his skin beneath his clothing would feel the movement.

At this point, quite a few guests that they passed were staring in disbelief - it seemed the two of them had attracted unwanted attention. But they were oblivious. And had gotten distracted from the true reason they were there.

She hung her arms around his neck, their faces still incredibly close. They were quiet, other than their rapidly rising paces of breathing. They were lost in each other, searching each others eyes for something, though they weren't sure what it was.

 _"Eleanor..."_ he breathed, eyelids drooping down as she lightly pushed on the back of his neck, silently telling him to come even closer.  _"I think I... "_

 _"Shhh, love."_ she hushed, eyes flicking to his lips as he parted them. It was likely that they'd both attracted quite the small audience at this point, but they were past caring.

Their footwork slowed as his head dipped down, his parted mouth skimming over her smooth lips. Ripples of warmth shook their bodies as their mouths finally met in single chaste kiss, their eyes closing from the welcomed sensation.

They paused there for a moment, memorising the feel of the others lips... Eleanor reluctantly opened her eyes, like something psychic had told her to do so. Immediately, she was drawn to an easily missed scene occurring towards the bottom of the main staircase. She froze completely, her entire body tensing with shock.

When Sweeney realised she was no longer reacting back to him, he frowned and parted ways with her lips. Seeing such an ashen look on her face, he immediately looked back over his shoulder, following the direction of her gaze.

Undeniable guilt and confusion swept over the barber's features as he watched the scene that was playing out.

_It was the boy._

The night he'd seen Toby being abducted emerged in his mind and he couldn't understand anything anymore. He'd been hoping the lad had  _expired,_  what other reasons would someone have had to kidnap the boy in such a  _sinister_ manner?

Why was he  _there?_ Though, now Sweeney paid more attention, he realised that staff of the house were shooing the lad out towards the servant quarters, like he was some sort of wretched pest. Mr Todd partly agreed with the latter, yet he had no idea what to do... from the pressure of arms leeching around his neck, he realised that Mrs Lovett was also deeply unsettled by the young lad's appearance.

What was he to say to her?

What was he to  _reveal_  to her?

The last thing he wanted to do now was worry her to death, especially given that he was likely to commit his most anticipated murder on the same evening.

"I-It can't've been..." Mrs Lovett whispered, bringing her face close to the side of his cheek, her eyes now wide enough to be saucers as she glared at him. "W-Wot's 'e doin' 'ere?!"

"It wasn't 'im." Sweeney lied, turning his head so that he faced her look of concerned fear. "Whatever you think you've seen, you 'aven't."

"I'm no  _barn pot,_ Mr T... that was Toby Ragg! My eyes saw 'im fair an' square!" she breathed at him fiercely, narrowing her eyes at him. "It was 'im clear as day! Jus' 'cause  _you_ don't want 'im back doesn't mean 'e's no longer  _my_ concern."

"Why on Earth would 'e be 'ere, then?" he shot back quietly, pulling her back into their previous hold to return to a steady slow dance. "What's your logic behind that, Eleanor? 'Cause there isn't any. Far as I'm concerned, we've seen nothin'."

"You  _always_ like t'deny the obvious,  _don't ya?!"_ she argued back, her tone and volume rising dangerously higher so that people closer to them were starting to eavesdrop - though Sweeney was listening to her perfectly well, his eyes were focused on something behind her, and this only fuelled her annoyance. "Ya  _always_ wanna get involved when summin's 'urt your pride - or yer  _bride,_ for that matter! But when it's someone who was just a  _convenience_ for a time, ya don't think twice 'bout leavin' 'em in tha gutter t'fend f'themselves!"

He scowled at her, hands reaching up to coil around each of her wrists. He yanked her arms away from him, his black eyes searing into her with such fury that she had to gulp down the urge to cry out.

"Shut up, Eleanor." he hissed, lowering his head so that he looked her squarely in the eyes. "This isn't a  _game."_

"Exactly right, Mr T." she whispered, her body was shaking feebly although her brown eyes were shining with confidence. "So tell me why ya tryin' t'make me think that boy wasn't there, when 'e bleedin' well were!"

"Shh..." he hushed, suddenly pulling her wrists so that her arms were hanging around his neck again, her face buried beneath his chin. "Don't speak."

Although she was furious with him (as her scowl showed), she played along, knowing that there must have been a reason for him to act so... strange. Yet she knew what she'd watched. She'd seen that boy - she'd seen the staff shoving him away from the guests' gazes.

And she  _knew_ that Mr Todd had seen him too.

"Wot are you doin'?" she soon piped up after a few seconds when his hands cautiously slid around her waist.

"I think Turpin 'as some uninvited guests, pet." he breathed with a soul-less gaze, watching a group of grubby men trickle in through the forest of upper-class corpses. "Best keep our 'eads down."

She suddenly smirked, "Why's 'at then? Ya never know, there might be some fireworks."

He didn't reply to her after that, he just stroked his hands across her middle, and if Eleanor was utterly honest... just from that simple action he'd somewhat  _redeemed_ himself from before.

She was  _exceptionally_  weak at heart.

For the right person,  _of course._

The men were scouring through the horde of people, their shaven heads and creased clothes should have forced the majority of the room to gasp with disgust, yet no one had batted an eye.

That alone, caused Sweeney Todd's suspicions to arise.

He'd witnessed men like them back in Australia.

He knew how they thought, he knew how they press ganged the more feeble members in society into doing their bidding. They were merciless, yes. But they had no charm, no wit, no  _cunning_ to rely on.

He could tell their type just from the way they all walked - they sheepishly followed each through the stream of guests, and it soon became apparent that they weren't hunting anyone down at all... however that conclusion may have been an after thought.

The small group of dishevelled men soon reached the bottom of the grand staircase - and Sweeney was almost adamant that someone else would have noticed them by then. Yet no fuss was made as each piece of filth made their way up each step. His mind suddenly jumped to conclusions...

_What if they were there for Johanna?_

Or more importantly...

_... there to kill his Judge?_

He let out a deep breath, hands digging into Eleanor's sides as he buried his face in her auburn hair. He was  _dying_ to follow them men... but for once, his priorities were not fulfilling his desires to murder, avenge or cleanse. The first thing on his mind was the woman who was still clinging to him, the woman who he had actually listened to, for once.

She had been right to say that he only cared about doing something when his own pride had been tarnished - perhaps by staying out of whatever was going on would prove that he wasn't so capable of interfering like she had said?

He stayed put, closing his eyes as he focused on the feel of her body against his own.

"Where are they?" he heard her whisper, her breath panting out over his chest.

"They're goin' upstairs."

Her hair shuffled against him and he took his chin away from her, allowing her to stare at him.

"Wot?! Why they doin' th - "

Just as Sweeney was about to answer her, the loud sound of what the two of them thought to be dense footsteps surpassed all levels of noise in the lobby. The murmur of contented party-goers faded, the quartet's strings subsided, the clink of glasses might as well have been a long lost memory.

The barber and the baker were frozen, staring at each in bewilderment, drowning in a sea of equally confused guests.

Other than the eerie silence and motionless humans, the noise of bounding feet was only confirmation that what was happening was real... the footsteps only being added to when a throaty, beast-like scream echoed out from somewhere upstairs.

That sound alone set Sweeney's fear about Johanna to rest. Because whoever, or  _whatever_ that sound was -  _he was certain it was no daughter of his._

He saw fear pass over Eleanor's face as a series of little patters told them that someone was running from the direction of the stairs...

They both turned their heads, eyes wide with horrified intrigue.

It was the Judge, and for once, even  _he_  looked out of his depth. He looked as noble as he had before... though from his worried paranoia as he scanned his eyes over the guests staring back at him...

It was clear, the man was uncharacteristically  _wary._

"You must all leave now!" he yelled out in desperation, his arms stretching out either side of him, like he was surrendering himself to some sort of evil fate. "I am sorry, it is no longer  _safe_ here, ladies and gentlemen! Go home to your families and loved ones at once!"

The guests began to mutter to one another, presumably questioning the man's sanity - but they soon started to flee like dispersed water droplets as the bounding footsteps returned again, only this time it was followed by something heavy shattering.

Unlike the rest of the people, Sweeney was physically transfixed to the Judge - it was like he was hypnotised by the atrocious man. Eleanor, on the other hand, was panicking beyond belief. She called his name, placing her hands on his shoulders as she attempted to shake him out of wherever his mind had took him.

 _"Mr T!"_ she shouted again, voice cracking from having to compete with all the startled cries from the fleeing guests.

He frowned deeply.

She huffed out a deep breath, feeling like she had no other choice...

_... she slapped his face._

He immediately scowled as he turned to face her, eyes burning with rage as he took hold of her wrists again.

"Mr T!  _Don't!_  We 'ave to get out of 'ere now - "

Like the loud bangs of feet from above had heard her, the strange screech bellowed out again, echoing down the upstairs corridors - only this scream seemed closer than the one before.

This time, Sweeney's instincts finally kicked in and he gripped one hand to her back, whilst he bent down so that the other could reach under her skirts. She gasped out as she felt him hoist her upwards in order to carry her in his arms, all of it seemed to be little effort to him.

He soon followed the flow of guests to the exit, mind reeling from all kinds of feelings... not to mention  _questions._

What the  _hell_ was going on?


	25. A Chance at Co-operation

Trains of startled guests fled from the chiselled steps of the Judge's porch - women screamed despite not knowing what was going on, men shoved against one another as they bounced about through the stream of people. Everyone ricocheted off of one another, only adding to the mayhem surrounding them.

Sweeney was amongst the frenzy, carrying Eleanor tightly as he headed towards the direction of Fleet Street.

When people dispersed a bit more, they managed to gain a few more feet of space around them.

The shattering of glass fragments and dense grazing of stone bricks panicked the crowd around them both again, causing everyone to speed up in an attempt to escape from whatever they believed was chasing them all.

This time there was less  _shoving_ and more  _running_ , the upper class guests may as well have been startled  _sheep_ as they ignorantly barged past the demon barber from all directions. He briefly paused, waiting for the madness around them to subside, seeing as there was no way the two of them could get anywhere otherwise.

Eleanor raised her head from where it had been buried in the nook of his shoulder, searching his eyes when she peered at him with dread. He returned her stare immediately, his stoic façade reminiscent of an unbothered soldier who was merely doing his duty. She opened her mouth, the concerned expression on her face already causing him to feel a surge of annoyance - he'd purposely suppressed revealing certain things  _all night_ to keep her from becoming preoccupied, yet he hadn't been able to stop something  _spontaneous_ from startling her.

_He couldn't stop the bloody woman from worrying, it seemed, even if he wasn't the direct cause._

"Don't." he spoke lightly, yet gruffly as he brought his head down closer to her so that she was able to hear him clearer. "Don't say a word. Not until we are out of this, understand? Not  _one_ word, Mrs Lovett. You 'ear me?"

He recognised the fearful tears that coated her irises as she nodded at him. Tears that he'd seen when he'd often thrown her against the wall of his parlour, tears that had made him feel  _powerful_ \- yet he didn't find himself feeling so pleased with himself now that she was silently pleading for him to take her away from whatever mess they'd stumbled into.

From both her silence and the shock that had struck over her features, he was certain that he could trust her to obey him.

With her hands grappled around his neck and his arms holding her up securely, he propelled himself forwards, barging diagonally through the flow of distressed people.

Eleanor clung onto him tightly - if it had been any other situation, she'd have been more than blushing from where he'd placed his hands in order to carry her, yet she was too concerned to notice. She buried her head beneath his chin, squeezing her eyes shut, attempting to block out the noise of squabbling shouts and frantic footsteps firing off around her.

She must have shut herself off to sleep at some point, because the next time she opened her eyes, there was no sign of the people crammed in around them both - only spacious cobbles and for once, the  _comforting_ coldness of the winter air. Considering the two of them had abandoned their overcoats, it was more than a  _bitter_ chill.

She pretended she was still dozing, just so that she had the excuse to keep her head close to Sweeney - the sound of him panting out (he'd halted jogging just before she'd woken) was somewhat comforting too.

In her mind, she attempted to make sense of what had just happened, yet nothing she came up with seemed a plausible explanation. His brain was also reeling with the same questions, yet his confusion didn't quite reach his features.

Mrs Lovett wasn't quite sure where they were now. Considering that her eyes were intently distracted with the sight of the black hair that fell across his pale skin... she wasn't really  _coherent_ enough to establish  _anything._

Mr Todd had his eagle-eyes fixated on the path ahead, and they darted about to search for anyone who attempted to be some sort of threat. Most people that they passed gave them a quizzical look - given that it was night-time and the two of them appeared slightly  _on edge,_ they were bound to attract some attention.

He trailed his eyes down to the frost-glazed cobbles, teeth clenching as he felt her nuzzling her nose over the side of his neck.

It seemed that now he recalled missing another  _perfectly_ good opportunity at killing the Judge, every minor annoyance that he habitually overlooked itched away at him.

Even if he did  _despise_ himself for not getting on and completing his vengeance, he hoped that the disgusting pest had at  _least_ had a well deserved fright from whatever those thuds of feet and throaty screeches entailed. Considering the guests' reactions, he could only  _dream_ about the look of shear  _fear_ on the loathsome Judge's face.

Eleanor whimpered with discomfort at the feel of his fingers hooking into her skin - his actions caused him to hold her body closer, and tighter. All the visions of his adversary's throat spitting out droplets of blood had led him back into his land of wrathful purpose. He was completely unaware that the woman he was grasping onto was actually the one on the receiving end of the physical effects from the thoughts that plagued his mind.

Hell, if the barber managed to roil himself up so much due to his vengeance-filled  _visions,_ once he finally seized the Judge's throat in his bare hands - he'd probably be  _bouncing_  off the walls with  _elation._

His thought-pattern had blinded him for quite some time - it  _must_ have been a while, because the next turning in front of them led on to Fleet Street...

... a place that even  _he_ was slightly glad to come back to at this point.

Knowing too well that there would be prying eyes of so-called neighbours around that corner, he brought his head down a bit further, resting his chin into her hair. She didn't make a sound, but her eyes fluttered shut and her eyebrows pinched together due to his movements.

She wondered whether she should decipher something from the way he was holding her now. It was clear that her shock had slightly faded considering she was thinking about the feel of his grasp  _far_ too much.

He continued to tightly carry her, finally setting foot on the familiar cobbles that streamed with tragic red ribbons of bloodshed - even  _then_ it was  _there,_ as he risked a glance down into the gutter. Unfortunately, the sight of blood had become a common one, so he quickly shifted his gaze away, pretending he hadn't seen a thing.

_It didn't stop him from questioning what the source of the bleeding was..._

"Almost there." he breathed out, the sound of his whisper dispersing through her strands of hair to greet her ears. She stirred, finally lifting her head up to peer at him directly - he didn't acknowledge her gaze, his attention was still fixated on the street ahead.

She was dying to catch his lips with her own, just so that she knew she could give him some form of comfort. But from the emptiness in his eyes, she decided against it... he wasn't in the mood to give her any of his attention.

She studied his features, then slowly turned her head, attempting to follow the direction of his gaze...

It led to their premises.

His  _beloved_ slaughterhouse for the welcomed souls of sinners  _loomed_ over her deserted emporium, and both of them found the viewpoint strange. It was almost as if they were peering at the outside of their daily lives, delving into the perspective of the clueless stranger. From the unnerving and intimidating appearance of their establishments  _alone,_ they were both amazed at how no one had caught onto the macabre scheme that they were carrying out yet.

_If they discounted Eva Fiori, of course._

In that moment, they were both subconsciously aware of just how  _evil_ the two of them were together. Even though neither of them spoke, their wickedness slithered into their previously panicked or vacant channels of thought, forcing them to focus on what they had together - relationship aside, they had a successful, fully-functioning  _greet, meat then eat..._

And that tall, ghastly sight of their death-factory was enough to settle their overwhelmed minds, and provoke smirks that touched upon both pairs of grey lips... yet ones that only lasted for a few split seconds - they were quickly replaced with invisible veils of fear or misery, before they allowed the cracks of their true nature to break and consume them entirely.

Sweeney's consistent pace had caused him to reach the curb outside her shop, and for a moment he appeared to be disorientated. He shook his head, pushing the feeling away.

Without a word, he placed Eleanor down on the ground over-cautiously, the fingertips that had been holding onto her legs lingering far longer than she had expected. He ensured that each of her feet were planted on the ground properly, holding her still in case she felt dizzy. He knew how powerful shock could be.

He slowly stood up, briefly glancing at her - but he tore away once he realised she was adjusting the front of her dress now that she had the chance.

"We'll talk 'bout everythin' in the mornin'." he finally spoke, sounding disinterested but it was clear that his mask was fully shielding his true feelings.

"Wot? The mornin'?! Wai - "

He turned away and peered down at the ground in front of him, clearly headed towards the stairs to his parlour.

 _"Wait!"_ she cried out, the sound of clicking heels telling him she was probably following him. "You... didn't 'ave ta 'elp me."

He paused, head briefly acknowledging her as he tilted it to peer over his shoulder.

"I know that." he said, voice incredibly quiet and his face sincere as ever.

As she took a step towards him, he swerved around to face her, wearing a deeply puzzled frown.

"Why d'ya wanna just up an' leave?" she asked quietly, her chocolate eyes searching his for some kind of answer, because she knew he wasn't going to give a verbal one. "I 'aven't even 'ad a chance t' thank you yet."

He stood motionlessly, his eyes staring back at her without a glimmer of readable emotion.

She huffed, dropping her gaze to her feet, realising that there was no way of getting through to him. She knew he was probably relaying the chances he'd had at slitting the Judge's throat in his mind, only to kick himself internally now that all chances were lost.

As she observed him staring through her like she was a cloud of air, a small shadow of a young boy came into view from the entrance to Bell Court. He clung his grubby little hands around the stem of a public gas lamp, watching the scene with intrigued brown eyes.

Toby hadn't anticipated them both having their businesses shut that evening - he wasn't the smartest boy, but he could deduce where they had been due to their formal state of dress, not to mention the time they had arrived at, on Mrs Lovett's doorstep.

He gulped and bashfully scratched his head of spiky brown hair when his eyes rested on Mr Todd. He was in  _dire_  need to approach Eleanor Lovett, but he couldn't  _possibly_ muster the courage to do so, given the presence of the sinister barber.

He recalled how Mrs Lovett used to tend the man to no end, not even rewarded with a grateful glance in return. It had shocked the boy when he'd seen the barber approaching the shop with Mrs Lovett snugly wrapped in his embrace.

To see them both incredibly close to one another, even then, caused him to feel slightly nauseaous with worry.

The pair were utterly oblivious to the lad's existence.

He watched in horror when Mrs Lovett whispered something before she leaned forwards, reaching a hand up to stroke Mr Todd's cheek. The lad's eyes widened, expecting the frightening man to lash out in response... but the barber appeared to lean  _towards_ her touch.

Toby audibly gasped.

The  _damned barber_ must have seized his bony hands around her poor heart while she was at her most  _vulnerable,_ at least, that's what  _his_  opinion was.

"Thank you." Eleanor repeated quietly, closing her eyes once she finally pressed a soft, chaste kiss to lips. He stood stiffly, attempting to appear awkward, yet his eyes dropped shut at the feel of her again and only gave away that he was more than willing to let himself go.

He reluctantly took a step back from her - he'd sensed that she wanted to reach her arms around his neck, and he wasn't allowing her proximity to take over his senses and sway him into kissing her back.

From the glum expression he wore as he dropped his eyes from her, it was clear he wouldn't be joining her for the rest of the night.

The tears welled up in her eyes but she swallowed back the urge to cry with disappointment. In truth, the woman had no idea whether to be  _scared,_ given the events that had occurred that night, she had no clue if she was still in danger... she would have felt calmer with him by her side.

But predictably, the man was set on spending the evening alone, and she didn't want to challenge his wishes now when the two of them were on relatively civil ground... or rather, a little more than  _civil._

"You're not to disturb me." he said in a whisper, answering her even though she hadn't even spoken a word... for once, he'd known exactly what she'd been thinking. "Leave me be tonight. I have some plans to modify."

She inhaled deeply, nodding in response when his scrutinising eyes rested on her, " 'O course, love."

He replaced the step towards her that he'd removed previously, her eyes faltering as he caressed her jawline with his thumb. His eyelids dropped down as soon as he returned her kiss. His lips were that quick and light that she almost thought a ghost had kissed her. When the warmth of his thumb on her chin finally vanished, she slowly opened her eyes, sadly observing the man she loved disappearing around the corner to cut across her courtyard.

She hoped for a goodbye, so she stood there a little longer once he'd headed for the stairs, her view of the rest of his journey obscured by the shop's front.

Even if his goodbye was an  _after-thought_ , it didn't matter.

She  _yearned_ for that goodbye.

But she never got one.

Toby huffed out a breath he'd been holding far too long - partially appalled by what he'd just witnessed, but mainly  _desperate..._ he finally had an opportunity to approach the only person he'd ever felt truly cared for him.

And he didn't have much time.

_A life was at stake._

Once he saw the baker sighing with depression and fishing her key out from the snug pocket of her cleavage, the lad scampered over the slippy cobbles, head scanning the street from all angles - it was like he was  _paranoid..._ rightly so, given that the last time the boy set foot near 186 Fleet Street, he had been knocked out and abducted.

Yet, it would be impossible for Miss Fiori to be in two places at once, the boy knew that. But this time, it wasn't  _her_ he was afraid of...  _it was the barber upstairs._

Eleanor had turned away from the boy, too focused on getting inside now that she was all by herself. As the jangle of her house keys rattled, the boy's pace sped up.

 _"Mrs Lovett!"_ he cried out, skidding over a frostier patch of ground.  _"Wait! I needs some 'elp!"_

She gasped out, flinging herself around to face him immediately, her face paling even more if it were possible as her set of keys hit the ground.

 _"T-Toby?!"_ she choked out, suddenly feeling like a ton of bricks had been placed over her ribcage. "Wot the devil are you doin' 'ere?!"

The little boy came to a hurried stop by the curb-edge, not wishing to approach her closely in case Mr Todd was to make an appearance.

"I-I know 'at she said not ta come 'ere 'gain but  _I gots not choice, ma'am!_ I dunno wot ta do!  _Please 'elp!"_ he blurted out in concern, holding his arm out to her like he expected her to take hold of him in order for him to lead her somewhere. She felt the tears returning again, more out of confusion and pity for the poor boy -  _he wasn't making any sense._

"She's injured, ma'am!" he added once he saw the deeply puzzled yet compassionate tears shimmering in her brown pools. "She's been lookin' after me proper she 'as! An' now she's 'urt real bad an'  _I'm no 'elp!_ B-But I said I'd fetch s-someone who c-could 'elp 'er! An' I fink that you can! Please, ma'am!"

Eleanor's memories of the events flooded back to her as soon as he'd said his last word... it seemed she'd escaped one ordeal only to tumble head-first into another.

Her brows lifted into a wince as she took a few steps towards him, bending down to place a hand on his tense shoulder... she couldn't help noticing that he was no longer wearing the tatty jacket she always used to see him with... it appeared to be something that had been  _tailored._

Whoever was taking care of him now was far better off than she would ever be.

In that moment, as she met Toby's alarmed eyes, she was completely envious of whoever had such a kind child in their company. The boy was the purest of any child she'd known, always seeing the good in people. Even if someone wore a mask of care, the poor lad was that innocent that he would probably believe it was genuine.

Even so, she did really care for the boy. Every part of her wanted to help him.

But every part of her wanted to endanger whoever he spoke so highly of... her jealousy got the better of her.

" 'M sorry, darlin'." she replied in a shuddering whisper, her other hand stroking back the wisps of dirty brown hair behind his ear. "Really, I am."

He suddenly let out a whimper, worried tears streaming down his cheeks.

"You shouldn't be 'ere." she added sternly, holding back tears of her own as she tried to understand the new burden she faced - but everything seemed to merge as one. "I don't know wot ya think I can 'elp with, lad. You 'aven't been 'ere f'months! And then you go an' frighten me out 'ere! And wot were you doin' at the Judge's 'ouse?! Me an' Mr T saw you there! You wasn't invited, so why was ya there?"

"I was lookin' for - "

"Up to no good?!" she near yelled, feeling her frustration ripping out through her before she became aware of what she was actually doing. "Whoever's lookin' after ya may give ya  _fancy clothes,_ but they're not really lookin' after ya if they didn't stop ya  _sneakin' into 'ouses!"_

Toby suddenly scowled at her, shrugging off her hand from his shoulder, his tiny hands pushing away the teardrops that were still slicing into his cheeks.

He opened his mouth about to say something - but his eyes caught sight of a shadowed figure lurking around the corner of Mrs Lovett's shop...

His eyes widened and he gasped. It was evident who it was, because he scarpered as soon as he saw the glint of a white streak of hair cutting through the darkness.

Mrs Lovett frowned at the boy, her eyes red and puffy when she watched him scramble over the slippery cobbles, heading back to Bell Court passage - presumably returning to wherever he'd ran from.

Too outraged at herself, she made sure she kept her eyes on the boy until he finally disappeared into the void of gas-lit bricks and blackness. Her eyes lingered over where he'd just been stood before her, pleading his little heart out for her to help him.

How could she, when she didn't know who she was  _really_ helping?

How could she, when the lad had  _betrayed_ her by never returning?

Too distracted and distraught from a mix of guilt and self-loathing, she didn't notice the black eyes peering at her from the corner of her shop... they were hard, yet mirth-filled.

There was probably a  _smirk_ to match those eyes as well...

The barber had witnessed  _everything._


	26. The Devil Says

Sighing with guilt, Eleanor pressed her back into her shop door, not caring when the back of her head hit it with a thump. Her deep breaths puffed out, visible from how chilly it was in her vacant premises.

She felt  _more_ than terrible now. She'd already been on edge since the Judge's party had been abruptly cancelled (more like  _evacuated)_ and having seen the young lad peering up at her in hopeful desperation just then...  _only to shout the odds at him..._

She'd never forgive herself.

Yet she could never have brought herself to deal with whatever he'd been asking of her. When she tried to recall what he'd even told her, his voice became an absent, incomprehensive blur.

Too many strange things had happened in a short space of time for her to make sense of it all.

She took a couple of steps from the door, focusing on the shop floor, which was devoid of any colour - and for once, she felt like she was staring into a dreary mirror.

Deciding that she was being  _beyond_ ridiculous and all she needed was a sit down, she headed to her parlour, hugging her arms around herself as the cold air swirled about and seized its hold of her...

_SLAM._

She stood bolt upright, frozen with fear at the loud noise - the action had been so strong that it shook the shop windows behind her. Her eyes squeezed shut with dread and she gulped down the urge to let out a small whimper.

She knew she wasn't going to have a  _serene_ night.

She started to shake with panic when she heard the latch being yanked down - the click of the mechanism told her the door was now securely locked shut. Footsteps approached behind her, and it was then that she knew she'd missed any opportunity to leave the situation completely.

She heard the footsteps come to a stop at the back of her and she inhaled deeply as she braced herself, feeling someone's warm breath panting out onto the back of her neck.

"Don't forget to lock your door, pet."

She breathed out an enormous sigh of relief at the sound of the barber's voice, but she couldn't help but feel annoyed with him for sneaking up on her like that.

"You never know who could be itchin' t'get in." Sweeney added, black orbs slitting through the darkness at her as she swivelled to face him with a stubborn glare.

"I know 'at! A crafty sod like  _you_ would wanna come in 'ere, I'm not daft!" she shot at him in her strange defensive manner - to which he frowned in confusion.

He knew  _exactly_ what had gotten under her skin - it had to be the ordeal of the party, and then the near-traumatic panic when they both had fled. He'd witnessed everything during the meeting she'd had with the lad outside, but decided not to bring the matter up considering her distress.

"All the more reason to lock your doors then, isn't it?" he answered vacantly - she huffed out an annoyed wheeze and shook her head at him. Next, she turned around, storming off towards the parlour to stoke the fire, muttering "Unlike 'im,  _I_  wouldn't be stupid enough to bleedin' lock meself  _in_ wi' the crafty beggar. Wot does 'e know? 'E should be upstairs sulkin' 'imself to death."

She really wasn't in the mood for his flirtatious games after the recent events of the night, and it seemed that whatever the man intended to say or do... it would be pointless, because she'd still be in her foul mood.

He watched the open door with a curious frown, stood motionless in the main shop as she bustled about in the moonlit parlour. She was grunting over-dramatically as she transported a few logs from one end of the room to the other, which was where the fireplace was situated. Her grunts of effort were certainly an attempt at a guilt trip, though he was slightly  _thankful_ that she could at least take out her frustration on something  _inanimate..._

And from the violent manner that she was slinging the logs down, he was suddenly smirking with amusement. He loved it whenever she finally lost her rag.

He took his eyes away from her for a moment, but only so he could search for the gleam of glass through the pitch black of the main shop. At the first sight of the gin bottle, he marched over to it and snatched it up from the counter, face expressionless but eyes filled with devious intentions.

When he eventually entered the parlour, hugging the gin bottle to himself, he spied her knelt over the floor, using the skirts beneath her knees for cushions. She muttered curses to herself, her trembling fingers attempting to strike a match, but after several attempts she was beginning to show her irritation.

He raised a brow at the various profanities that flew out of her mouth, some that even  _he_ almost blushed at. Realising that she wasn't going to have the fire lit anytime soon, he kicked off his shoes - apparently the commotion of his actions had caused her ears to prick up. Due to how much his small, yet  _obnoxious_ tendency infuriated her, she finally successfully struck the match against the metal gauze of the matchbox, the flame flickering before her eyes.

He slouched down idly over the settee, gin bottle still in hand. He reached over to the side-table in order to fill up the two tumblers that were placed there. As he poured the clear liquid into each glass, Eleanor had successfully lit the fire - but was now raring to spout off at him. In fact, he was beginning to think that she hadn't even gotten  _started_ yet.

The shock of the night's events had only just winded her. As he was starting to see all too clearly.

"Wot are we even  _doin',_ Mr T?!" she gasped out hoarsely, exasperation and worry making itself known as she hurriedly stocked more logs onto the blossoming fire in a reckless manner, gulping back her annoyance.  _"_ The Judge were tellin' everyone  _t'leave!_ D'ya 'ear me? 'E wanted to abandon  _the_ most important social event in 'is calendar! And you  _know_ wot we 'eard up them stairs! 'S gotta be connected, ain't it?! But wot was it? It sounded like a bleedin' ...  _monster._ Now, I'm not one for the  _supernatural - "_

At this point, Mr Todd rolled his eyes and swiftly necked down his shot of gin, wincing as the stuff burned down his throat.

" - but I'm sure we 'eard summin'  _unexplained!_ And  _god forbid,_ if the Judge 'ad t'lose a bit'a his reputation tonight due to whatever nonsense were goin' on.  _God,_ Mr T! You shoulda bleedin' nicked 'im one while ya could! It wouldn't'a caused so much panic that way! Wouldn't'a been like wot  _we_ 'ad to fight our way through! Then let's not forget bleedin'  _Toby_  outside 'ere, 'o course! Lord in 'eaven, I'm not sure 'ow many more close shaves me poor 'eart can take!"

It was clear from his vacant expression that he wasn't bothered about how distraught with concern the woman was... which was bizarre considering he'd  _literally_ carried her out of harm's way earlier, like some sort of noble  _knight._ Then again, it was clear that the man hadn't deemed that keeping her out of danger could be seen as an act of  _valour._ It had been mere  _instinct_ for him to grab hold of her and leave.

Not to mention,  _a practicality._

"Well  _you're_ the one that told me to wait, remember?" he interjected lowly, his voice husky from the warmth of the gin coating his vocal chords.

She turned to face him with a frown and an astonished gawp, amazed that he had easily found something so simple to shoot back at her. Her defeated eyes faltered when she watched him slam down his glass on the side-table -  _after swallowing another shot, of course_ \- his hands loosening the tie around his neck. She glared at him like she was expecting him to start a staring match, mouth closing into an abrupt pout.

"It's too 'ot in 'ere." he grumbled hoarsely, oblivious to her now narrowed eyes...  _of course, he was._ Coming towards the end of  _January_  he should have been positively  _sweltering._

She gritted her teeth at his convenient complaint.

"I'd better put out the fire  _then,_ 'adnt I, dear?" she spoke, the frustration starting to show in the harshness of her consonants.

"No, no. No need for that." he replied in a strangely lighter tone, unravelling his tie so that it hung loosely around his neck. He then proceeded to unbutton his waistcoat and that happened to be when Eleanor stood up from her kneeling position to fully focus on him - from then on she was fully absorbed in studying his actions. She watched carefully as his right thumb pushed each button out from its matching hole, his other thumb holding the clothing on the opposite side to keep it from moving.

She shifted away from the fire, causing the reddish glow to illuminate the room -  _now she was able observe him better._

He smirked at her actions yet didn't stray from his task of removing his clothes. When his waistcoat finally fell open, he shuffled over the couch a bit more to reach for the gin bottle again - however, in doing so, he created more space next to him... and Eleanor wanted to fill that space  _immediately._

She tried to keep her pace slow as she wandered over to sit beside him, but her face was the tell-tale of how much she was suddenly  _loving_ their time alone. But it wasn't quite as  _intimate_ as she would have liked... not  _yet,_ anyway.

Without a word, he turned, clutching the tumbler he'd assigned to her, eyes exploring her with mirth.

" 'S not like you to sit so  _straight,_ Eleanor." he teased, purposely brushing his fingertips over her bare knuckles as she took the shot glass from him. His soul shined brightly through the blackness of his eyes, so much so, that she couldn't quite look away. Still fixated on him, she brought the glass to her lips, taking a long, much needed sip.

"You should relax more often." he added, blindly reaching for his own glass. "Admittedly,  _I_ can't. But I would've thought you could. You ought to after what's just 'appened."

 _"Ha!"_ she choked out, swigging the rest of the gin down.  _"Relax?_ Ya didn't see me in that god awful 'ouse'a Turpin's before we met up then, did ya?"

He frowned in confusion, taking a generous sip from his glass, "What do you mean?"

"I 'ated it. I've never felt so outta me own depth in me 'ole life." she confessed quietly, brows raising up like she was surprised at her own honesty. "Was lookin' all over f'ya at first I was. Glad ya found me when ya did."

He smirked, even though her words were striking him internally - in a way he couldn't quite describe.

"So am I. Else that blonde-haired meater would've gotten to you before I did." he mumbled dangerously, but it was clear his threatening tone was feigned...  _or so she thought._

Nevertheless, she let out a burbling giggle, taking on his advice - she relaxed herself by letting her spine slide down into a more comfortable position, her head propped up by the cushions behind her.

"Ya really think I'd 'ave  _accepted_ 'is proposal, do ya?" she purred whilst she gazed over at the dancing flames, chest rising and falling in a slow yet even rhythm, her legs sprawled out lazily.

He snagged her glass out of her grip, and she was that content that she couldn't even muster herself to look at him, let alone frown his way. She smiled calmly as she heard the sound of the gin gushing into each canteen once more.

"Are you tryna get me drunk, Mr T?" she questioned, her brow furrowing with bewilderment.

"Why would I need to do that?" he uttered, his body shifting a bit closer to her as he shoved the full glass back into her hands. "I don't 'ave to get you blathered to amuse me."

 _"Oh!_ Well tha's a relief, ain't it?"she exclaimed highly, her eyes flicking towards him - due to her droopy eyelids, he was sure that she wasn't far off intoxication, which was a slight surprise considering they'd barely had anything to drink so far.

His eyes studied her movements, and that smirk of his only broadened.

"It's  _still_  'ot in 'ere."

"Well bleedin' do summin 'bout it then! God, whenever ya  _do_ open ya mouth, you do  _go on_ sometimes, Mr T."

"The feelin's mutual, Mrs Lovett."

"Oh  _do_ stop callin' me 'at an' all! I think we've surpassed 'avin ta use our titles, dear."

He snorted a laugh, "But you still call me - "

"Yes, yes alrigh', alrigh'! I'm a bleedin'  _hypocrite._ But with you it jus' sticks, I dunno."

There was a brief silence as they both gulped down more of their favoured spirit, but the two of them weren't so eager to down it this time. It was clear as day that it wasn't going to be too long before one of them slipped into complete intoxication... however that wasn't completely down to the  _alcohol._

"Mr T, d'ya think there was summin' funny in the Judge's wine?" Eleanor soon piped up, completely oblivious to how she addressed him.

"Why would you think that?"

"It's just... you're bein'  _awful_ strange. An' so am I. 'Never felt like talkin' so much in me  _life!"_

"I beg to differ." he remarked, tossing back the rest of the drink. He didn't even flinch as he did so, irises like daggers as he stared intently into her far-away eyes.

He couldn't help noticing how  _beautiful_ she looked under the light of the fire... he should have slapped himself in the face for thinking it, but... she really  _was_ attractive... almost  _hypnotic_ to study.

"It really  _is_ 'ot, isn't it?" he said expressionlessly, pushing off his waistcoat and threading his tie from beneath his collar. "It can't just be me?"

" 'Course it's jus'  _you,_ love -  _look at ya."_ she chuckled out suggestively, mouth snapping shut and eyes suddenly widening when she realised that he wasn't stopping there. He stretched his arms up, hands grabbing downwards to pull the shirt over his head. She tossed the rest of the gin to the back of her throat, completely enthralled in him as he finally shed the last of his upper clothing.

"That's better..." he murmured, each of his bare arms outstretching over the settee behind them. He sighed and closed his eyes, then laid his head back into the cushions.

Eleanor's hands clawed around her tumbler, wide eyes trailing over the defined muscles of his abdomen, then from there, all the way up to his jawline. The outlines of his pallid body appeared to be the colours reminiscent of the fire crackling away nearby, and she could feel warmth simmering through her body just from looking at him. Once again, it was impossible to tear away.

"Think I'm gonna need 'nother one'a these." she finally managed to push out of her lungs, and he immediately cracked open his eyes to stare at her, moving up one of his arms so that his forearm rested against his messy head of hair.

"Why's that, then?"

"You're makin' me on edge. So much for bloody  _deservin' ta relax."_

"You're  _more_ than welcome to another... 'elp yourself." he blatantly teased, closing his eyes to the look of disbelief on her face.

She eyed his naked torso... then judged how close the gin bottle was... the man was being both  _awkward_ and  _openly provocative._

Just as she shuffled a little closer to him, hand poised dangerously close to the skin of his chest, Sweeney blindly reached his hand away from the settee - to unexpectedly unbuckle his belt. He slowly threaded it out from his trouser loops and once the whole length of it was free, he bent the leather and snapped each half together loudly, causing her to jump. He let out a relieved sigh, discarding it across the floor.

She  _loathed_ him as he pretended to be unaware of her actions.

"Stop playin' wi' me." she whispered, giving him a scowl.

"I haven't even  _started,_ pet."

"W-Well... I-I'm not gonna let ya take advantage o' me, i-if that's wot yer inferrin'." she stuttered out, her usually conniving brain suffering from the beginning of her apparent intoxication.

He sighed, and sat up slightly in order to grab his shot glass again. In turn, his left hand pushed back his knotted strands of black hair, that white streak seeming to gleam under the fire light - yet another thing that caused Mrs Lovett's poor heart to near  _implode._

 _"Of course_ you wouldn't let me do such a thing." he taunted in an almost-whisper, lips parting over the rim of his glass. " 'Cause we both know that you want to fuck me just as hard as I want to fuck you."

"W-Well th-that's j-jumpin' ta  _d-drastic_ c-conclusions - "

"But aren't drastic conclusions called for, Eleanor? 'ard times like  _these..._ it's only  _fair."_

 _Oh._ She knew it was  _fair._

 _More_ than fair.

"Ya know... 'think you  _was_ right, love. It  _is_  startin' ta get a bit warm in - "

"Yes... It  _is_ , isn't it?" he hissed in that persuasive tone that sent shivers all through her body - he shifted slightly as if he'd suddenly had a quick burst of energy, eyes admiring her face like every sin she had ever committed was mapped out over her features.

"Think all thiss gin'ss gone to our 'ead'ss, ya know?" she partially slurred out, averting her gaze from him before the intensity between them both became too much to bear.

"You mean it's gone to  _your_ head."

She rolled her eyes then turned back to face him, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. He shook his head and smirked, seeing as she'd proved him right.

"In that case, I'd better take  _that_ off you." he spoke sternly, placing his glass back on the table before he reached towards the one she held.

 _"No!"_ she protested loudly, causing him to frown deeply with annoyance. She clawed both hands around the glass, biting into a smile as she drunkenly met his narrowed eyes.

When his fingers almost settled around her hands, she yanked them away towards her chest, unleashing a torrent of giggles as he gave her a black look.

 _"Give_ me it, Eleanor." he growled out, holding his hand out towards her, wearing a mirthless expression.

Her frivolous chuckles only grew louder and more erratic due to his reaction and he let out a snarl of annoyance, launching his entire body towards her.

She gasped out as she slouched to the side - a consequence of him pouncing on top of her. He tightly grappled onto both of her hands with his own, pressing his nose into hers as he glared straight into her eyes.

 _"Give me it."_ he whispered menacingly, and that dirty laugh of hers broke out through her mouth, ringing out without any delay. Due to laughing so much, her hands lost their grip and he snatched the glass out of her hands, smirking with triumph... yet instead of getting up off of her, his right hand grasped the glass and he outstretched his arm by the side of the couch, gently releasing it out of his hands. It rolled across the floor silently, coming to a stop by the front of the fireplace.

Eleanor was still shaking with giggles, and he suddenly felt a little bit light-headed... he  _must_ have been because he was starting to enjoy the sound of her chuckling a little  _too_ much.

Still lightly pinning her down with his body weight, he observed her appearance closely, obsidian irises raking over the precariously low neckline of her deep red dress... they then trailed upwards to her pale neck, and then her chin, and then her hypnotising open mouth, then up to her buoyant chestnut eyes...

He paused there for a moment, but couldn't resist wandering his eyes over to her ever-messy auburn ringlets, pinned up out of the way of her shoulders.

Now that he'd studied her intricately, he'd started to grow hungry. And he had the urge to shut her up.

Seeing as her mouth was occupied, he snarled with frustration, instead pushing his damp lips to her inviting neck. Her giggles died down immediately, her drunken humour fading into gasps and whimpers of enjoyment as her eyes closed. He brought a hand up to the opposite side of her neck, squeezing her there until he could feel her pulse against his fingers.

He groaned into his attack of kisses when he felt her hands gently sliding up either side of his torso's skin, coming to a rest on both of his bare shoulder blades.

 _"Oh, love..."_ she breathed, eyes opening briefly as his mouth left her so that he could cup her chin in his hands, gazing down into her eyes.

"You're warm... take something off." he instructed hoarsely, hands dropping away from her as he slowly shuffled away from her to return to his slouched position from before. She opened her eyes and bit into her smirk, sitting up abruptly - a little  _too_ abruptly, because dizziness suddenly hit her. She closed her eyes and shook her head, and after she re-opened them found that her head had settled.

On hearing the rustles of her dress sliding over her skin, he felt his fingers trembling. His eyes shot towards her with interest, yet his hands strayed blindly towards to gin bottle. He poured yet another shot, engrossed in her as she slackened her laces one by one. Even though she wasn't returning his gaze, she could sense him examining her and her white cheeks tinged to pink.

Since one of his hands was busy lifting up the glass, the other was free to reach beneath her splayed out skirts. His fingers explored around until he found one of her boots, which he began to untie.

He brought his glass up to his lips, pausing when his hand finally managed to grip onto the heel of her boot and slide it away from her delicate foot. His hand stayed put and glided its way over her stocking-clad leg, her eyes drawn to him instantaneously. She moved her other leg over to his hand and he smirked at her enthusiasm, already starting to loosen her other boot.

Although the two of them were silent and staring deeply at one another, the crackle of the fire seemed to speak for both of them - each snap as the flames ate up the deteriorating logs made their hearts beat that little bit faster with anticipation.

Sweeney took a sip of gin while simultaneously Eleanor's second boot fell to the rug below his feet. Split seconds after, her dress finally loosened away from her and he almost choked when she gave him such a powerful look of seductive victory - luckily, he swallowed the strong liquid down, but that didn't stop him from spluttering out a cough or two. She held the dress against her front with one arm, chuckling quietly as she sat up straighter.

Her other arm reached towards her skirts and she shifted them so that he could finally view her legs... though her thighs were still obscured by the material of her dress, that didn't stop them from attracting his attention. He swallowed, eyes following the direction of his hand as it shrugged down each of her stockings - he grew impatient on her second leg and threw the damn thing across the room. That had only encouraged her dirty laugh to emerge again, resulting in his blood pumping more ferociously around his body.

Clutching the glass in a vice-like grip to his chest, he stared with an open mouth as she suddenly prised herself up. She took a few steps to the side so that she was stood before his bent knees, her hands still flat against the bodice of her dress.

"I know you 'ate the Judge's guts..." she breathed out thoughtlessly, and he frowned at her - what was she thinking, bringing up his  _nemesis_ at a time like  _this?!_ "... but you oughta be thankful that he 'ad to cancel 'is gatherin' else y - "

"Or else  _wot?_ Should I thank 'im  _before_ or  _after_ I slice open his throat, Eleanor?" he spat at her, her reminder of vengeance only added to the sexual frustration he had, and both were darkly evident in his eyes as he glared at her.

 _" 'Else ya wouldn't 'ave 'ad time ta find out this!"_ she finally blurted out, dropping her dress so that it bundled up at her feet.

Sweeney's eyes dilated and he gawped as he looked her over... her bottom half was completely  _exposed._

 _"You... ?"_ he breathed out, struggling for words as he took in a shuddered breath... then he went back to gawping at her.

 _"You... ?_ 'Ow long 'ave you 'ad nothin'...  _all night?! Even when... ?"_ he whispered to himself, wearing a confused frown as his eyes continued to travel over her thighs, finally settling on her intimate area as his words tried to make some sort of sense.

Before he could say anything further, she stepped out of the pool of dress, kicking it aside. His hand clenched violently around the glass, and it was a wonder to Eleanor how the damn thing didn't break. She eyed him confidently, her hands pushing his knees apart before she gracefully climbed onto him, all in order to straddle herself over his recently tensed thighs.

"You've been... wearin' nothin'..." his monotone statement trailed off as she leaned forwards, her lips ever so close to his when their noses brushed. "... all this time?"

He nearly moaned when she shifted herself over him slightly - he could feel the warmth from her bottom half through the material of his trousers, and she could tell how much he wanted her... his eyes told her that he was in control, but his crotch said otherwise.

She inched her head away from him, but only so that she could stroke her fingers over his clenched hands... she eased the shot of gin out of his talon-like digits - his gaze was drunken and dazed as he watched her in fascination.

_His brain was still trying to catch up with what was happening._

She quickly finished off the last of his drink, licking her lips once the last drop had seared down her throat.

Like she was imitating his previous actions, she hung her arm limply to her side, allowing the glass to slip from her fingers, smiling once it slowly thumped onto the ground. His breaths became shallow once she reached her hands in the small gap between them, her fingers stroking all the way down from his chest to the bottom of his abdomen.

Her hands lingered over the buttons of his trousers and he groaned in frustration at her actions, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his brow in submission.

Her lips brushed over his and her eyelashes fluttered against his skin as she popped out the first button, earning a deep hum of relief from him. She cleared her throat and he raised a brow at her, feeling her hands taking hold of his own - she placed them so that each of his fingers found a lace of her corset, before returning to relieve the pressure of his crotch.

His small touches on the laces across her back became impatient and frantic, it seemed that the combination of her on top of him and the nonchalance of them shedding their last pieces of clothing had pushed him far too much. He moaned gruffly as he hungrily returned his lips to her mouth, his tongue snaking its way through to meet hers in eager passion.

Before long, the trousers around his legs had loosened enough for her to start tugging them down. She broke away for a moment in order to ardently shrug the clothing down each of his legs, his shaking hands on her back still scrapping with the laces of her corset.

He breathed deeply, lifting his feet out of the pile of trousers, snarling once she sat back down over his lap, dangerously close to brushing the skin between his legs.

He urged his fingers to pick up speed whilst he launched an attack of kisses on her mouth - he was amazed by how fiercely she reacted back, clenching her thighs when he almost brought her down on him completely. She shifted her weight forwards when she began meeting his lips more feverishly, causing him to slam backwards and slide down the settee in defeat.

For once, he didn't care about control.

He was curious about what she had in mind...

His fingers soon slowed pace when laces finally started loosen. Even though he was desperate to release her out of the infernal corset, the feel of her mouth over his and the warmth of her half-naked form over him had invaded his sense of lust. She'd engulfed him so much, more than he'd allowed her to before. To say he  _liked_ taking down his stoic barriers for her to pleasure him, would have been  _more_ than understatement.

However, that didn't stop him from snatching her corset away from her as soon as it was finally no longer attached to her body. He yanked the material out from the gap between their torsos, throwing it down to the floor, never ceasing to kiss her. His actions seemed to evoke her into a fit of excitement and she brayed her mouth harder against his, loudly groaning out with relief. His open mouth felt every minor vibration.

His hands ran down the pale skin of her back, hands that were firm and callous as he impulsively trailed each of his digits down the shape of her spine - which curved inwards now that the feel of his fingers sent delightful shivers to shake her entire form.

She raised herself up over him, causing his palms to slide over the skin of her lower back and skim the tops of her buttocks.

Then she quickly dropped herself down onto him. The two of them groaned out into the other's mouth at the contact, their bottom-halves already bucking in order to create a syncopated, yet rapid rhythm.

Eleanor blindly gave herself to the devil inside her then and there, for the taste of him was too much, the feel of him... was  _otherworldly,_ and too pleasurable to deny. And this time... there was nothing stopping them, there were no obstacles now that they were both giving in to one another, all in the enflamed glow of her parlour.

As her movements over him became more elaborate and daring, their mouths parted, their heavy breaths puffing out onto the other's face thoughtlessly.

Sweeney's eyes flew open at the feeling of her as she leaned away from him, rolling her body in manner that was far too blindingly pleasurable for him to comprehend.

He blatantly loved  _everything_ about Eleanor Lovett in that moment. The sight of her was crookedly  _perfect_ , the sound of her was near  _symphonic._

More of her auburn hair slowly slid out of the grips against her head as she pushed her hips down in response to each of his thrusts, the sounds of her pleasure gaining in volume.

He narrowed his eyes curiously once he met her gaze, taken aback at the shimmering adoration swimming in her glossy eyes - she wasn't afraid of hiding any of her affection. He could see her love for him plainly - it was more prominent now than he'd  _ever_ seen it before.

Before he could take back control of himself, he found his curiosity taking over his brain... and inquisitive words slipped out before he could stop them.

 _"Would you burn for me?"_ he breathed out gruffly, her eyes faltering at the sound of his strange question. His hands gripped around her backside, encouraging her to keep moving on top of him at the same pace.

She hummed out a breathy, incoherent agreement - despite the confused look about her, she'd answered him with sincerity and  _utmost_ honesty.

"Would you  _lie_ for me?" he beckoned persuasively, the darkness in eyes growing more tempting with every second that passed by.

Her confusion was tossed aside as she hissed out a determined  _"yes"._ Her body shook violently when he took himself out of her, only to push all the way back in.

" _Beg_  for me?"

 _"Yes,_ yes!  _Always, Sweeney!"_ she moaned out noisily, continuing to abide and execute his every sly request, regardless of her fascination as to why he was asking her questions in the heat of the moment - she'd thought that he'd preferred it when they were both  _silent._

"...  _die_ for me?"

He paused his movements as he asked this, quickly reaching his hands up from her rump to cup them around her face. His black eyes seared into her as he tried to understand and feel  _exactly_ what she did. Her thighs tensed, her chest heaved, and she couldn't deny that in that moment, she felt like he truly  _was_ a physical part of her.

The bare  _bones_ of her stared back at him.

She could tell that something had been stripped away from him too, and it gleamed in the blackness of his eyes - something had finally  _lit,_ and the flame had began to flicker, wavering so much that she couldn't ignore the warm adoration waving through her entire being.

 _"Yes! God,_ yes!  _Ten times_ if I could." she gasped out in ecstasy, without any slither of doubt in her eyes. From then on, only pure  _love_ for him poured out of her being and those eyes were undeniably begging him to start moving again.

What Sweeney hadn't realised, was that she was already (and quite  _obviously)_ doing  _all four_ of the things he'd just asked of her... so there was really no need to question her. But the poor man was attempting to understand what her loving him really meant. And he was starting to wonder how on Earth she'd waited for him for so  _long..._

It was also just dawning on him, that if love meant doing all those things that he'd just asked of Eleanor...  _then perhaps he was beginning to go the same way?_

Though he shunned the thought of being  _in love_ with the woman, it certainly didn't stop him from  _burning_ for her.

Or  _lying_ for her, for that matter.

It was only a matter of time before he subconsciously submerged himself within an excruciating sea of denial, so much so, that he'd soon drift ashore to an island of  _realisation..._

_From then on, he'd never wish to drown in that poisonous water of denial ever again._


	27. A Morning Person

Waking up to the palpable smell of cinders -  _which were still lightly smoking from the pit of the fireplace_ \- was a strangely  _welcomed_ occurrence to Sweeney Todd.

Waking up with Eleanor Lovett's limp, bare body clinging to him, was also something he was  _more_ than comfortable with.

The two of them must have fallen asleep together, even though he couldn't recall ever closing his fatigued eyes the night prior. Nor could he remember her hugging her limbs around him, or sprawling herself out on top of him...

Nevertheless, he was secretly glad of the warmth she encapsulated him with.

Due to the light rays bursting in through the gaps within the heavy parlour drapes, he was sure that it was well into the day... in that case, they'd more than  _overslept -_ but given their activities the night before, that was no  _surprise._

Eleanor's face was still snugly using the skin over his heart as a pillow... causing him to be incapable of sitting up or else he'd wake her. He cautiously lifted his arms up from their draped positions by his sides and stretched them up, tensing them in order to relieve his slight frustration.

As his arms slowly came back down, he raised his head away from the arm of the settee to press a kiss into her locks of hair - he questioned why he did this, but just decided it was best that he ensured it never happened again...

Like he'd instantly forgotten what he'd just taken note of, his toned arms disobeyed his mind and slid over the back of her, hands meeting at the base of her spine. He kneaded her there gently, unable to resist burying his face in her hair.

He hoped she didn't wake. He loved her like this, all quiet and  _peaceful..._

He closed his eyes for a moment as he felt her shifting slightly, but she only did so to sink herself further into him. Her mouth had parted slightly, her lips grazing over his torso's skin with every breath he took in, or puffed out.

If this had been a few months prior, Sweeney knew he would have pushed the woman off of him completely... then he was sure he would have scorched himself for being so  _foolish._

A part of himself was scolding him then. Telling him he was  _ridiculous_ for carrying on with such a laughable act...

But he snorted in the face of that cowardly side of himself.

He was well aware that their voluptuous tryst had awakened something within him. His lust for her was ever-expanding, its arms were definitely branching out to snatch at new feelings to accompany it. He was  _adamant_ he felt something for her. He cared deeply of course, but he'd known that already.

After the night before, he knew he could trust her without any hesitation. Spur of the moment, she'd answered him honestly, without a single  _smidgen_ of doubt in her eyes.

Certainty had flowed through their pleasure.

And certainty had  _remained,_ even as she slept against him then.

It was strange, now the barber thought about it, how it had taken him so long to be sure about what role she played in his life.

She'd always been his friend, and admirer.

Yet he'd never forgotten those eyes of hers on that day... on that day he'd finally returned to her after  _years_ of solitude. Brown eyes that were full of gleeful surprise. Full to the brims with temptation...  _not that he'd noticed at the time._

From that moment, it should have been clear to him that she didn't just want to be his  _friend._ Or his land-lady, neighbour, business partner  _or_ attractive accomplice, for that matter.

She desired to be just  _his._

And nothing more.

He felt her smooth shins rubbing against his inner thighs, and his eyes flew open at the unexpected sensation. Not a second later, he realised that she was beginning to stir, and he actually started to panic slightly - he didn't want her catching on that he'd had an impulse to wrap her in his embrace, let alone  _engulf_ his  _entire face_ within her scent.

But he had no time to react rationally.

His attempt at moving the arms he'd placed on her back, resulted in him stroking his hands around the sides of her tummy - he involuntarily caressed the skin of her lower abdomen, and she reacted like he'd started to tease her. When she let out a little sigh of content, he knew he couldn't possibly get out of the situation now.

He pretended his mistake was intentional and added a little more pressure, raising a brow as the little sigh evolved into a soft, incomprehensible moan.

Her body curved inwards, towards his actions, like she was physically making sure he wasn't going to stop.

She continued to hum out, her form reacting to every brief touch of his fingertips, a little smile on her mouth as she wriggled herself over him. At the feel of him nestling his face in her faded red curls again, her eyelids cracked open. Her vision was briefly blurred from her tiredness, not to mention her disorientation.

Apparently the gin had affected her more than it had him... then again, Sweeney  _was_ more accustomed to necking shots down fairly often.

Despite her surroundings being the setting of her parlour, it seemed that she was completely unaware of her company - even if she'd taken into account the conniving hands that were massaging her, it seemed she was still half in her dreams... so she probably thought it was her mind playing tricks on her.

It was only when she went to roll onto her side that she finally realised that it wasn't a  _mattress_ beneath her... but the warmth of  _human flesh_...

Due to it being so early, her mind was incapable of processing anything...

Therefore, she let out a shriek of panic.

She soon ran out of air, instead gasping in breaths once she felt the hands on her abdomen sliding to her sides...

She lifted her head up, her gaze meeting with the very  _unimpressed_ eyes of Sweeney Todd... to which she then lowered her now  _excited_ eyes, to trail down his exposed body...

It was probably the nicest surprise she'd woken up to in a while.

Not that he seemed to see it that way.

Once he cleared his throat, her eyes dashed back up to address him properly - and he held back the urge to snicker at the hot blush that coated her cheeks.

However, he allowed his smirk to break through - from the look on her face, her silence and her rapid pace of breathing, it was clear to him that the memories of the night before were becoming more obvious to her.

"W-Wot time is it?" Eleanor croaked, letting out a sigh of relief as she lifted a hand up to push some of the wisps of her red hair out of her face.

He frowned at her, apparently ignoring her question because he was far more interested in her actions instead. He wasn't used to the routine of waking up with her after an intimate night - he was unsure of how to act, or how to reply. Now that he was certain that he likely had feelings for her, it was proving to be even more awkward than it should have been.

"Mr T?" she called, feeling his grip on her skin tighten as he gazed dazedly at her soft lips. He wondered if she was aware of how alluring she was... all he wanted to do was relive their night of passion all over again, and complete the space between them for their lips to meet once more...

 _"Sweeney?"_ she questioned firmly, the feel of her warm hands cupping around his face causing him to inhale deeply.

The fact she'd addressed him by his first name had been enough to break the trance she had him under. Once he studied the concern on her face, she only confused him even more.

"Wot's wrong, love?" she whispered, her eyebrows meeting in a wince.

"I think we may 'ave overslept." he replied quickly, not quite understanding why she'd jumped to the conclusion of him being uncomfortable because something was  _wrong._ He was uncomfortable because everything felt  _right,_ for once. The damn man had no clue how to handle the feeling of brief early-morning contentment.

Eleanor laughed out loudly, a hand sliding from his chin to playfully slap his shoulder. His jaw tensed to stop a wicked smirk from spreading over his mouth - he was attempting to refrain from showing her that he'd let go a little more, but she could tell that he was reigning back his amusement, because from the expression evident in his black eyes... he was  _very_ amused indeed.

"Ya  _think?"_ she chuckled out, teeth lightly biting over her bottom lip to dissuade her laughter from bubbling out of her. "Just 'ow much did we  _drink_ last night?"

He narrowed his eyes at her curiously, keeping a straight face even when he brushed his hands further around her, lightly following the shape of her bottom.

"Is that all you wish to remember?" he breathed, never breaking his stern expression despite his hands stroking her rounded cheeks.

"N-No... 'course not, dear." she said, surprised that he was even dropping a  _hint_ about their intimacy into conversation. "I actually... remember quite'a lotta last night, believe it or not."

He discarded his neutral mask, his smirk breaking through to match the mischief that flickered in his eyes.

"Oh  _really?"_ he asked, over exaggerating his feigned surprise. "That's a shame, I was hopin' to get you 'alf shot enough so you'd not even know what 'appened."

She rolled her eyes at him, which were burning with the same playfulness as his held, "Now that would jus' be takin;  _advantage,_ love. And like ya said, there were no need to, 'cause I wanted to fu - "

He snatched an arm away from her backside in order to push an extended index finger to her lips - he knew that if she'd continued on to repeat his exact phrasing, he would've found it impossible to resist bedding her again...  _right then and there._

He opened his mouth before he'd even planned anything to say, his finger still pressed to her plump lips to keep her silent.

"You... " he began, gaze lowering from her whilst his mind scrambled for words - it was clear what he was trying to stop himself from doing. "... ought to get dressed. Don't rush. I'll open up shop for you."

She blinked in bewildered amazement, and he shifted slightly, causing her attention to draw back to his taught arms... she wanted to explore his body with her eyes, she'd never found time to do that just yet...

When she didn't answer, he shuffled beneath her, telling her he wanted to get up.

She shook herself out of her thoughts and obliged him, slowly backing herself away from his skin. She marvelled over his form now that he was moving to stand to his feet, biting her lip when she realised that the delectable man had been all over her the night before.

She'd never anticipated him to be adventurous in terms of their intimacy... even in her daydreams. But at he'd shown her perfectly well the night before, his dominance enthralled her until she was screaming out in ecstasy. She knew that he'd completely shattered his guard, because she'd felt ever so confident with everything she did to him... and even more so when he encouraged her with his moans, or sometimes even his hands.

Mrs Lovett was gushing a bright red as she blinked out of her thoughts again, adorning a light frown when she noticed Sweeney had moved out of her view completely.

He'd collected their strewn out clothes into neat piles, and was hurriedly shoving his legs into his trousers. He raised a brow at her when he noticed her staring... she didn't seem too bothered when he began ogling her body too, in truth she  _revelled_ in him studying her in such a way.

Once his trousers were on loosely, he pushed the pile of her clothes closer to the settee with his bare foot, giving her a subtle hint that she was perhaps teasing him too much.

He took his gaze away from her, bending down to snatch his shirt from the floor. Once he'd pulled it over his head, he stood back up, his vision coincidentally settling back on her again. He let out a soundless chuckle - she was still lounging over the settee lazily, appearing to be comfortable and confident in her own skin... even with him there.

"By all means,  _take your time."_ he said hoarsely, shaking his head in amused disbelief as she rolled onto her side to face him, laying her head on the arm of the settee. She watched him intently as he continued to button up his formal shirt - which looked rather crumpled and untidy now.

"Do we _'ave to_ work t'day, Mr T?" she whined airily, her body language showed signs of fatigue, yet her eyes danced with suggestion. "I mean... say we didn't. You could  _modify ya plans_. Then once ya done we could always just f - "

 _"No."_ he cut her off before she even had the chance to awaken his desires again.

He didn't bother tucking in his shirt, and instead snatched his shoes from the floor. He ignored the rest of his clothing, he could gather it all later on - he had to head upstairs and change into his habitual wear, after all, a barber had to look presentable for his customers.

"Take as long as y'like, Eleanor." he sighed out, feeling rather weak against her. "I'll see to any busybodies outside and tell 'em you won't be open 'til late, alright?"

She hummed out an  _'uh-huh',_ stretching her arms forwards without taking her eyes away from him. He stared back at her tempting gaze one last time, smirking at her cheeky behaviour.

If she was like that  _every_ morning, he certainly felt a fool for missing out on such a thing for so long.

_It was about time he caught up._


	28. Speculations

Sweeney had kept his word.

And Mrs Lovett had kept her place in the parlour, not bothering to move a muscle.

As she'd rolled onto her other side, he'd slung his usual attire on, knowing that for every second their establishments were closed, another suspicion would arise.

Once he was fully clothed, he ran back down the stairs to her shop. He expected to see her fully dressed and present by the counter...

But when he turned the corner and she was nowhere to be seen, he frowned.

He briefly glanced over the place, the usually clear glass windows tainted a dark brown from the silhouettes that were stood on the other side of them. When he looked closer, he realised there was a  _gathering_ of angry looking faces pressed against the windows, studying him spitefully.

The man was already an  _unsettled_ person.

But it was safe to say he was even more uncomfortable now, with all those speculating eyes glaring at him mercilessly.

 _"Ain't got the guts ta face us, 'as she?!"_ Sweeney heard one man yell as the front row of scruffy individuals hammered their flat, oil-stained palms on the glass windows over-zealously.

He knew he'd have to get rid of them somehow. Considering Eleanor was still nowhere to be seen, it was clear he was going to have to shoo them off before opening up. He would end up throwing a fit if she didn't arrive soon - what the hell was taking her so  _long?_

He exhaled deeply, but didn't let his true disgust for the ugly scene of Londoners break his useful persona of  _talented barber._ He approached the front doors, his hands clenching into fists by his sides.

It wasn't just that the people outside were no better than the specks of dust below his feet...

It was the way they were all peering at him with suspicion, presumably breathing out more vulgarities about the woman he'd only just left in the parlour.

_The woman he'd spent the night with._

_The woman he'd woken up with._

He adorned his cloak of sincerity as he quickly unlocked the door, holding in a curse when the hoard of customers outside fired off with inquisitive murmurs.

"Wot's  _he_  doin' openin' up?" a woman (who was on the larger side, and known for her obnoxious gossip) loudly questioned, her gathering of nosy followers whispering around her left, right and centre. The woman had happened to have said this as soon as he'd stepped outside. The first row of people shuffled back in a panicked manner, like the man was some sort of unexpected deterrent.

"Musta been at it all night like the  _night flower_ she is!" a man shouted, earning a few gasps from the gossipers stood in front of him - from the black smudges on his unshaven face, it was clear that he was a factory worker, in one form or another.

It was unlikely that the man would be  _missed..._

"Say that again, sir, and Mrs Lovett shan't serve you." the barber replied sternly, appearing to look oblivious to the insult directed towards his lover. The sudden  _authority_ he had over the crowd before him was not something he was used to, but he handled it  _tremendously_  well.

"Who you's kiddin' mate? That whore'll serve  _anyone!"_

The crowd of starving customers erupted into snide laughter - there wasn't a mirthless face to be seen, even the quieter customers of the lot had silly grins on their nauseating faces.

If that man  _habitually_ humiliated people, then today was his unlucky day...

Because Eleanor Lovett and Sweeney Todd were some of the  _worst_ people he could have  _ever_ set out to ridicule...

From the amusement clamouring from person to person and slowly rising in volume, Sweeney knew that the joke had gone on for far too long.

He wanted to put down every single pest that was stood before him, fearlessly cackling at him,  _mocking him_ \- he wanted to gauge out their dozy rat eyes and slit every pale neck open until the cobbles of Fleet Street were decorated with puddles of crimson.

"Oh, you are  _more_ than partly right there,  _sir."_ he coaxed, eyeing up the brave man in the small crowd as he clenched his teeth into an obliging grin. "Per'aps so right that you've earned yourself a shave, completely free of charge."

The dopey customers cheered and applauded in approval, dispersing around the courageous individual as he raised up both hands to celebrate what he probably deemed a personal  _victory._

"Yet..." Sweeney continued in monotone, loud enough to alert everyone in order to stop them from continuing their cheerful praise.

"... in Mrs Lovett's defence, she has fallen ill. If she picks up over the next few 'ours, I'm sure you'll all be able to get your 'ands on one of 'er famous pies once she opens tonight." he lied meticulously, calculating eyes studying each of the grimy, stained faces staring intently back at him. "She 'ad a terrible fright last night - "

"Oh, say no more, sir!" another random man's voice piped up, voice travelling from a row so far back that his face was obscured. "Whole'a London's 'eard news'a the strange occurrence at Judge Turpin's ball. A man like 'im abandonin' summin like that's  _un'eard_ of, sir! No wonder it's all the papers are churnin' out!"

 _"Yeah!_ Wasn't  _you_ there?! Wot did ya see?!" someone else butted in, whispers merging around them like wildfire.

"Someone said it were 'cause one'a the guests 'ad been messin' wi' evil spirits - "

"Na na, I 'eard it were 'cause Turpin 'ad been rejected by 'is pretty little ward!"

"S'more likely that ol' Beadle Bamford 'as overstepped a mark - "

"As much as the lot of you and your conspiracies are fascinating," Sweeney said in mirthless monotone, internally  _perplexed_ just as much as they were. "I shan't repeat myself again. We will not be open until - "

 _"We?"_ the ever-so  _brave_ saviour of the crowd chimed in once more. "Who's this 'we'?"

The customers murmured and gossiped amongst themselves, clearly what he'd just said would only  _fuel_ their elaborate rumours...  _rumours that had probably hit the nail on the head._

"I said, _Mrs Lovett_ will not be openin' until evenin' due to 'er shock." he ground out through his persuasive grin. "In the meantime,  _sir,_ how about you come up for the quick trim you have most assuredly  _earned?"_

There was nothing better than a quick smile... and a satisfying  _shave._

Though it was clear that it was  _the barber's_ satisfaction that this next shave would cater to...


	29. The Diversion

That night, the pie shop was busier than Mrs Lovett had ever recalled it being before. She wasn't quite sure why...

But she  _presumed_ it was partly because the majority of clients wished to ask her about what she'd witnessed at the Judge's house.

After an hour or two, she must have relayed the sequence of the previous night's events  _dozens_ of times to scoffing snoopers - of course, she always missed out key details that she wished to keep to herself. Like the part where she and Mr Todd had  _danced together_ for one... not to mention the part when she'd arrived back  _home._

In short, the entire of her premises was  _rife_  with gossip about the Judge's ball - if customers weren't talking, they were likely to have their noses shoved in a paper, reading about the ordeal instead.

Into the third hour, when nine-o-clock finally approached, she finally had a gap to have a rest from the questions flying at her. She immediately dashed in from the courtyard, discarding the half-full tankard of ale on the counter, then let out a huff of air.

This night was taking a toll on her, and she knew it was partially due to the fact she'd had to rush herself to get ready earlier on. She was aware that she probably looked a lot more chaotic, seeing as she'd carelessly slid the pins through her hair and slung on any old dress. Luckily, Mr Todd's illness excuse kept anyone from inquiring about her state of dress - not that she was aware of what he'd told them.

Even though she'd been  _rushing_  to get dressed that afternoon, she must have been a while because Mr Todd hadn't seemed too happy when she'd finally set foot in her shop. He'd given her a hard stare, then had left almost immediately, like he couldn't stand the sight of her.

She sighed disappointedly as she remembered his look of annoyance.

Now that she was chatter-free, she headed to the bake-house to fetch another tray of pies, wearily rubbing her eyes with her half-gloved hand.

Once she finally arrived before the familiar bake-house doors, she quickly unlocked the pull latch and creaked open each one. Her movements froze once she heard a muffled  _commotion -_ the sounds of shrill shouts and the less prominent clamor of disgruntled customers catching her off-guard.

She inhaled sharply, quickly slamming the doors shut, fingers shaking slightly once she brought down the bar to secure their secrecy. Her expression evolved into one of panic, abrupt stomps of feet echoing from the stairs leading down from the barber shop - footsteps that were so hurried and dense, that the wall beside her shook.

 _"Mrs Lovett?!"_ she heard Sweeney whisper out harshly, causing her to feel like a sudden weight had been brought down on her chest.

_Something was wrong._

Before she emerged to meet him, she heard him mumbling curses to himself - she could just imagine him pacing around or clutching at his dark locks of hair.

Because he desired to find  _her,_ she felt her panic reduce slightly. She knew that his alarm was likely to consume him completely. She knew that she would have to calm herself in order to make sure that they were still thinking in a  _practical_ manner.

Once he repeated her name a little more loudly, she exited through the parlour door, meeting him by the base of the narrow staircase.

 _"There_ you are." he spat out, his bloodshot eyes already giving away his stress and discomfort. "What the  _hell_ do you think you're doing?!"

Eleanor appeared to be taken aback. Her eyes had already started to well up from his sharp tone, but she didn't shy away from his accusing stare.

"Wot  _are_ you on about, Mr T? I'm doin' me bleedin' job, that's wot!" she replied, her voice trembling now that her chest was hurting far too much from the disappointment emitting from him.

"Your  _job?_ Ah, so that includes tellin'  _everyone_ 'bout how I  _carried_ you back 'ere last night, does it?!" he snapped, his callous hands seizing hold of her thin wrists to pull her closer.

Realisation suddenly flooded across her face and it wasn't long until it was accompanied by a silly smile.

" 'O course not. But it's conjured up plenty'a business f'me. An' a lotta skeptical sods now think the  _world_ 'a you now, given your...  _heroics."_

As she whispered the last word, she tilted her chin up towards his face and scoured her eyes down the length of his body.

His bother seemed to fade into bewilderment as his frown deepened, the claws around her wrists loosening to grasp them gently.

"You didn't have to tell them, Eleanor." he said quietly, guiding her into him so that he could wrap his arms around her. "You've only encouraged them to gossip even more now."

She closed her eyes in content as he hugged her, but her frown indicated she was definitely confused by his actions. Considering he had just been  _annoyed_ with her, something didn't quite add up. Nevertheless, she nuzzled her nose into the lapels of his waistcoat, breathing out deeply as he left a kiss on her forehead. She slid her hands around his sides to grip the back of him, and they stood there, enjoying the feel of each other.

It was fairly...  _peaceful._

_For about ten seconds._

The disgruntled chatter of customers raised in volume, causing the two of them to wince and grip each other a little tighter.

Before they had time to ask the other about their thoughts on the matter, the front door's bell rang out - and from the clatter that followed, it was clear the door had been pushed open with some force. The noise of clientele's chatter simmered down to mutters now that a coarse scraping echoed through the pie shop, probably causing everyone's ears to prick up. Even ears that were located out in the courtyard.

Sweeney shoved Eleanor away from him at the sound, discarding her into the wall to storm towards the counter.

The irrational man's  _infernal_  instincts had kicked in.

Eleanor squeezed her closed eyes for a second, praying that he didn't do anything to compromise their plans. After her silent prayer, she eagerly rushed after him, joining his side behind her counter.

She only just held back a gasp as her eyes met with Eva Fiori.

_The mysterious woman who Mr Todd had attacked..._

_The secretive undertaker who had wanted to become part of their slaughtering operation..._

Unlike her usual quiet, neutral demeanour, she was half-hunched and in quite the state of disarray.

Eleanor gulped when she saw Sweeney tense his stance in her peripheral vision...

 _'No, not now. Please, not_ now.  _The girl's only gonna make things worse!'_  she thought to herself, her brown eyes filling with pity for the wrecked woman stood opposite the two of them.

Before anyone spoke, there was an uneasy silence.

Eleanor took that time to study Eva before the man beside her flicked open his razor, and executed the girl in a heartbeat.

Compassion flowed through the baker entirely as she looked her over...

The girl was without her usual tattered tailcoat, and instead, adorned a clingy white shirt - or at least it  _may_ have been white. From the ugly looking rips and bloodstains it was difficult to tell.

The only thing that appeared to be keeping her shirt and pantaloons in place were frayed braces across her shoulders, which were that tight they were cutting into the material and presumably, the skin beneath too. Her black tie hung around her neck messily, and from the deep red marks around her throat, it was clear why the tie was in such a messy fashion.

Her hat was tilted to the side of her head, revealing the bruises and minor scrapes over her face. Her wine-red hair was matted and stringy - it had clearly been drenched at some point, most likely the result of adrenaline pumping through her.

The sooty blackness around her grey eyes had veined out and expanded, which only exaggerated just how pale her skin was. Her mouth too, was so smudged with black substance that it look like the poor girl had been eating  _coal..._

Eva limped a step closer - and from the sound of doing so, it was clear to Eleanor's ears that the girl was in her  _bare feet._

From how terrible she looked, it was a wonder how she wasn't wheezing out in agony as she approached the counter - apparently the barber's presence was unimportant this time round.

Once Miss Fiori finally reached them, she let out a deep exhale and attempted to disguise a wince.

Sweeney clenched his teeth, one of his hands seizing hold of Mrs Lovett's forearm beneath the counter. She was  _dying_ to cry out from how much pressure he'd squeezed around her, but she swallowed it down instead.

However, once she sensed him about to explode with anger, she crossed her free arm over to lightly stroke his white knuckles. She needed to keep him  _calm._ Because she knew he was  _sure_ to have a tantrum if the topic of the girl's  _offer_ came up...

The last thing she wanted was him being angry with her again.

"I'll have my usual please, Mrs Lovett." the unwelcome girl stated emptily, shooting her fatigued gaze up to challenge Sweeney's seething stare.

The baker silently nodded, taking her hand away from him to search beneath her counter for a glass tumbler.

He widened his eyes, taking them away from the girl for a moment in order to gawp down at his accomplice... in utter  _shock._

 _"Usual?!"_ he repeated in sharp disbelief, searing his eyes down at Mrs Lovett's bent-over form. "I never realised you were acquainted with my  _land-lady_ ,  _here."_

He shifted his attention to the broken-looking woman again, the taste for homicide on the tip of his tongue.

"Nor was I aware that you had the  _guts_ to show your face around here, girl." he added dangerously, slamming an open palm down onto the counter.

"If you truly wanted to  _scare_ me, Mr Todd, you should have man-handled me  _far_ better than you did on Christmas Eve." she answered bitterly, her cut lips curving into a smile of amusement.

His breathing puffed out loudly.

His hands tensed into fists...

He growled out, thrashing both of his hands down onto the counter-top, causing a couple of wooden spoons to clatter to the floor.

Eleanor gasped and popped back up from beneath the counter, glaring at him with concern - luckily, she'd got her hands on a glass before he'd lashed out on her worktop.

"There, there, dear." she hushed, using her free hand to stroke over his nearest shoulder. "The girl's only 'ere fer a tot'a gin. She ain't come 'ere for a fight. She'll drink 'is, and then she'll be on 'er way."

He gave her a foreboding look, still breathing harshly and gritting his teeth now that his knuckles were throbbing. He watched in disgust as his normally  _rational_ accomplice poured out the vile alcohol into the tumbler, carefully handing it over to the young woman.

He was  _absolutely fuming._

As soon as the money from the girl became a full glass of gin, and reached those sore, stained hands of hers...

It was like he was witnessing Eleanor's  _betrayal_ right before his eyes.

"I shan't bother you anymore." Miss Fiori said, her voice cracking tiredly as she gazed at Sweeney with unwarranted sadness. "I shall sit outside and leave you both in peace. Don't you  _dare_ let me come between you both, for god's sakes."

Before either of them could reply, she staggered her way towards the front door again, amazingly not spilling a single drop of her gin once she finally heaved it open.

When she had left them completely, Sweeney snarled again, swiftly turning towards Eleanor, charging up his hand beside his shoulder - like he was preparing to  _attack_  her.

She glared back at him in anger, her bottom lip wobbling with disappointment. She had thought he'd known better than to raise a hand to her... after all, his rage hadn't been caused by  _her_ in this instance.

The man needed to get a  _grip._

Just as he was about to swing his fist towards her, her stare grew cold and she suddenly appeared to be far more confident.

"That girl offered t'help us, y'know." she stated in a deadpan tone, blocking out the image of him threatening her by dropping her eyelids over her irises. "She coulda turned us inta the law, but she didn't. She's 'ad all'a this time, so wot's 'er excuse? She knows more than she's lettin' on Mr T. We can't get t'the bottom'a things if we get rid'a the girl. She's always civil enough when she comes in 'ere, no reason why we can't be."

He considered her words, the fury in his eyes fading into confusion and regret once he finally lowered his arm to hang by his side.

Sensing he was no longer hostile, she opened her eyes. Eyes which faltered as they saw the sorrow swimming in his own as he looked down at the ground below his feet. He reminded her of a child that had just been lectured for committing an innocent-misdeed.

Then again, perhaps there was no difference at all.

"For the time bein', she's an ally, Mr T, whether we like it or not." she said softly, cautiously lifting up a hand in order to stroke the side of his face. "We can listen ta wot she 'as to say - " He sighed at the soft contact on his jawline, his eyes closing calmly. " - and if it's not our cup'a tea -  _so t'speak_ \- then a lil' slit  _would_ be understandable, love."

He hummed in reply, moving his face against her palm until his lips were able to leave a kiss there. A warm smile painted her lips -  _he'd given in._

It was a good job he had, or there'd probably have been a  _bloodbath._

"Alright." he sighed out, trusting her advice given how right she usually was. Her smile spread wider and she stood on her tip-toes, her other hand raising up in order to cup his chin.

"I'm glad y'could come t'ya senses, love..." she murmured - he was unsure whether she'd intended to say that with a double-meaning. He swallowed, knowing that it was unlikely that she'd hinted to his discovery of feelings... because he hadn't even given her an inkling that he had any yet.

Their eyelids dropped down, their lips grazed, his hands slid around her waist, her breathing quickened -

 _"Miss Fiori?!"_ came a familiar high-pitched voice, the door bursting open causing the dark pair to part in a split-second, like the feel for one another had been a mirage, and nothing more.

The young lad's eyes bulged out of his skull at the scowling barber, his little hand snatching hold of the door before it slammed shut. He held it so there was small gap -  _all in case he had to make a run for it._

Mr Todd was silent, but narrowed his eyes at the boy.

"Y-Ya 'aven't seen a funny lookin' lady 'ave ya?" Toby spluttered out, his question clearly aimed at Mrs Lovett despite his panicked eyes settling on the man next to her.

Eleanor's eyebrows met in sadness as she saw the worry in the lad's chestnut eyes. It was the same concern that he'd wielded the night prior. From what she could recall the lad telling her, it must have been  _Eva_ that he'd been referring to, hence all of the woman's nasty looking gashes.

 _"I don't believe this."_ Sweeney muttered under his breath, yet they both heard him loud and clear.

"She's just outside, dear." Mrs Lovett replied cheerily, giving the boy a smile before she gave the barber a disapproving glance. "I'm sure she'd be grateful'a your company. She's in a right state, she is."

Toby rushed out a 'thank you' and squeezed through the gap in the door, not bothering to stop it from slamming. He seemed so joyful, running as fast as his little legs could carry him.

"There were no need t'be so cold with 'im." Eleanor whispered, turning to face Sweeney, who was shooting his dagger-like eyes towards the woman sat on one of the benches outside. She was now accompanied by the young lad, who had sat down eagerly beside her. The sight disgusted him. How could the boy feel  _giddy_ about seeing his kidnapper?

Then again, the barber knew the lad wasn't the brightest spark.

Eleanor sighed heavily, knowing he wasn't willing to listen to her this time around. The rage still clung to his being, so much so that he was stood stiffly, oblivious to the desperation in his accomplice's eyes.

Knowing she couldn't lure him out of his vicious thoughts, she dropped her gaze to the floor and went back to resuming what she'd been doing before.

And he was completely unaware that she'd left his side.

He gritted his teeth, watching the boy chatting to the woman. He was almost tempted to laugh out once he realised that the girl was seemingly  _ignoring_ the lad at first. It was that or she didn't have the energy to react.

Caught up in the woman he was  _itching_  to bump off, he stood with a hawk-like gaze, oblivious to the shop door opening once again. Even when the bell tinkled, it didn't seem to be enough to shake him out of his murderous imaginings.

"Oh!  _Mr Todd?!"_

The sound of  _Beadle Bamford's voice,_ however, was one that caused his attention to shift immediately.

The wretch appeared to be as  _swarve_ as ever, giving the barber a grimace-inducing grin as he tipped his hat, sauntering up to the counter, "I had not anticipated seeing  _you_ here. I have come to express the Judge's deepest apologies about the evening prior. I had intended to express this to Mrs Lovett, but seeing as you are here, perhaps you could pass on my regards."

Sweeney nodded, biting back his frustration.

"Of course, sir." he answered sternly in a programmed-manner, hands balling into fists - luckily the counter obscured the blasted man's view of his discomfort.

"May I inquire on the whereabouts, of your lovely baker?" Beadle poked, repulsive smile broadening as the barber frowned at his choice of words.

_The annoyances were starting to pile up._

"She had a fresh delivery of meat." Sweeney lied hastily, his dark, dense eyes unchanging as they bored into the abomination across from him. "It arrived far later than expected."

"Ah, and so you are being a gentleman and helping her out where you can?" the shady man asked, though it was clear it was intended to be more of a snide remark. "There are always earnest rewards for such  _generosity,_ Mr Todd. Kindness leads to places you've only ever dreamed of."

Sweeney scowled deeply at him, eyes widening - had that been an attempt to  _manipulate_ him?

Beadle pursed his lips, quickly moving on before the barber could contemplate further.

"Judge Turpin is currently feeling rather under the weather, yet he still wishes to be presentable. He plans to propose to his young ward, regardless of his health. I can assure you that you will see his honour at your premises, before the week is out. Discretion is of utmost importance during this period, given the Judge's intentions, and of course, his illness."

The Judge was...  _ill?!_ Sweeney hoped that for his own sake, his detestable nemesis  _lasted_ the week so he could finally slice into that stubbly throat and put an end to all this inconvenient vengeance.

Mr Todd nodded slowly, eyes wandering to the ground, his mind frantic and already planning his methods -  _finally, another opportunity._

"You have my word, sir." he replied nonchalantly, lifting his gaze which was filled with feigned reliability. "Discretion is most definitely something I am able to provide. Send my regards to his honour, I hope his health flourishes."

 _'But only so_ I  _can get my 'ands on 'im...'_ he thought, a conniving smile reaching his mouth - but it could have easily been misinterpreted as being something  _grateful._

"Of course, Mr Todd. Best wishes on the evening ahead."

With that, the loathsome man strutted out of the place, turning left - this time he'd been oblivious to the presence of Eva Fiori, it seemed.

Sweeney was caught up with two burdens at once.

The simmering excitement at the thought of finally slaughtering Judge Turpin once and for all... it  _surged_ through him, and he inhaled deeply.

Then his eyes settled on the woman outside, and he studied her venomously, only just taking notice of her injuries. What threat was she  _really?_ She looked like a walking  _corpse,_ sat there next to the weedy boy, with a small smile of amusement on her cracked lips.

Then again, it was clear that his enthusiasm about the notion of murdering his most hated enemy had caused him to feel slightly full of himself. He was near smiling in  _glee_  from how everything seemed to have fallen in his favour.

Due to his sky-rocketing self-confidence, he sniffed sharply and took slow steps towards the door that led out to the courtyard. He was in the mood for some answers from Miss Fiori.

Even if he had to punch the syllables out of her.

Stepping out onto the patio, he inhaled the air around him and then sighed, like it was the freshest feeling in the world. Most customers ignored the barber's bizarre behaviour, too focused on tearing their teeth into one of Mrs Lovett's pies or engrossed in speculative conversation.

Sweeney scanned his head from right to left in a smooth movement, keeping his gaze straight ahead once he set eyes on the woman he was after. He looked exceptionally calculating once he marched towards her, mouth in a thin line and black orbs bottomless. Once he reached the bench where the two annoyances were sat, he clenched his teeth, his stare searing into their backs.

Knowing that he wasn't going to gain the woman's attention by merely  _looming_ over her, he tensed his hand into a claw, bringing it down in order to grapple into her left shoulder... which was still  _extremely_ tender from the raw, ever-weeping incision he'd administered on the night of their tiff.

Eva let out a quiet hiss at his actions, eyes squeezing shut when her features mashed into a wince. The boy next to her audibly gasped, his little body swivelling around to gawp at the dreaded barber... the boy always knew better than to shy away from facing a demon.

"What do you want?" she inquired quietly - so  _quietly,_ that Mr Todd realised her low volume had clearly been to avoid  _making a scene,_ rather than to show her defeat.

The girl had fighting spirit, he supposed.

He liked a  _challenge._

"I want you to tell me  _everythin'."_ he breathed back in an overly-hostile manner, bending over slightly so that he hovered close to her ear - he wanted to ensure that she heard  _every word._ "I haven't got time for little people like you, pokin' your snivellin' noses into other people's business. Mrs Lovett is unaware that you kidnapped this whelp, and if I was to tell her of such a thing, I'm  _sure_ that you wouldn't be welcome 'ere. Perhaps bear that in mind,  _girl."_

Sweeney stood back upright, giving Toby a cut-throat glare before he turned on his heels, knowing full well that he'd probably struck a nerve.

 _"You'd better clear everyone out then."_ Eva's voice piped up, causing him to stop in tracks, eyes fiercely darting to the ground as his entire body seized up. He hadn't expected that. She'd proved him wrong.

He wasn't so full of himself now. How could he be?

He cautiously turned to face her again, and she'd rotated to stare at him - but there was no fury in her grey eyes, no  _disdain._ She looked... somewhat  _comfortable?_

 _Accepting,_ even.

She moved herself around more, her back to the table as she crossed her arms over. She was waiting.

Sweeney narrowed his eyes at her threateningly, already opening his mouth to speak.

"Mrs Lovett has suddenly come down with a cough. I wouldn't eat anythin' of hers, if I were any of you." he declared loudly, the whole place falling into silence as they briefly paused their actions - which was, incidentally, eating the very pies Mr Todd was referring to. "She's already bed-ridden, poor thing. Out of respect, I thought it best to close up, even it were against her deepest wishes."

All of the customers glanced at each other, and it wasn't long before they began trickling out from the courtyard, grumbling their concerns to one another. The general public seemed to believe  _anything_ that came from the mouth of someone with a pristine reputation. Not to mention a  _constant cash flow._

All that was left now, were rows of tables that were littered with half-eaten pies, spilled tankards of ale, discarded card games... it was an endless mess.

Eva stared at him blankly, like his lie had been  _distasteful_ or perhaps just not good enough, and let out an impatient huff. The boy fidgeted worriedly next to her, and she briefly glanced at him, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder.

Sweeney frowned at the strange change in her demeanour as she comforted the boy, and took the chance to rush back into the main shop while her attention was diverted. Ensuring no one else was so trundle into their altercation, he dropped the latch to the front door, flinging the sign around to read  _'closed'._

He knew full well that Eleanor would be beyond furious with him. But he didn't care.

He needed answers  _now_ damn it.

Once he returned to the courtyard, the youngsters had their beady eyes on him - especially Toby, the boy was absolutely  _terrified_ of him.

He stood stiffly before them both, expecting her to begin whatever she had to tell him.

"Out with it then." he spat, his vacant expression displaying that his patience was more than wearing  _thin._ "I'll be in me bloody grave before you get on with it."

"Mrs Lovett 'as a right ta know  _too,_ Mr Todd!" Toby suddenly blurted out, both barber and undertaker glaring at the boy with annoyance. "Ya can't keep things from 'er,  _it ain't right!"_

Before Mr Todd had a chance at scolding the boy, Eva had beaten him to it.

"Do my eyes deceive me, or are you still sat on your prim little  _arse,_ presuming you are a  _model_ young lad? You cannot  _possibly_ do what I tasked you with without moving a single  _muscle! Now get to it!"_ she instructed strictly, like she was a tutor of sorts, rather than someone Toby looked up to as a dear  _relative._

Nevertheless, the boy shifted off his seat immediately, muttering an incoherent apology as he dropped his head - which was only to avoid Sweeney's scrutinising eyes. He knew better than to disobey Miss Fiori - she'd been far too kind to him, despite her frightening antics and her short temper. Even with all the evil within her, the lad seemed to gush over how wonderful she was.

He'd be  _heartbroken_ if anything happened to her.

"The boy's right, you know." she spoke calmly, swivelling back around so her face was shielded from Sweeney's confused and equally enraged eyes. " _Your_ answers are  _her_ answers too. It's only fair you include your  _landlady_  in this. Bear in mind, I don't have all night, Mr Todd. So it  _may_ be an idea to get a move on."

Mr Todd let out a breath of irritation when he was about to turn around in order to fetch his accomplice, but instead he froze, catching sight of movement from the shop's interior in his peripheral vision.

From the strides the person was taking, it was clear to him that it was Eleanor. And as soon as he noticed the strides slowing, it was obvious she'd laid eyes on him. He couldn't wipe off the guilt that had painted his face once he moved his head to face her.

Even with that regretful look he'd given her, it didn't stop her from bustling out of the side-door. Her gaze was one of upset disappointment and turmoil as she flicked her eyes over the deserted tables, and then between her lover, and the woman she had thought to be polite.

It was then that Sweeney realised, as he trailed his eyes downwards, that she was clutching a gin bottle, which was surrounded by a pile of torn-up rags. He was unsure of what she'd intended to do with those items.

She glowered at him as she purposely barged past his shoulder, setting the pile of cloth and glass onto the table in front of Eva, who was completely silent.

Seeing as the girl's wounds looked so angry, it was clear that she needed them treated or they'd be infected. Mrs Lovett had no reason to hate the young woman, and she felt partly to blame for how bad she looked.

Apparently, Eleanor Lovett had felt tremendous guilt as soon as Toby Ragg had popped his little noggin around her front door - the lad had asked her to help Eva the night before, and she'd outright refused him.

Once she'd seen those scared brown eyes again, she'd only wanted to make amends for her inexcusable envy.

She really hoped Sweeney hadn't overstepped the boundaries, or she'd never be able to make up for her selfish behaviour. In all honesty, he already had for clearing out her shop of customers without her say so. The man was getting  _far_ too big for his boots.

Completely pushing him to the back of her mind for a moment, she gave the battered girl a warm smile, carefully sitting down next to her - where Toby had been sat just moments before.

"Wot got ya in such a state?" she whispered in an almost motherly manner, eyebrows meeting in an empathetic wince as she studied the injuries to the youngster's face. It was clear to Sweeney that it was another chance for Eleanor to play  _mother_ again, despite the fact that the young girl was clearly in her early adulthood.

He hated how much of a  _contradiction_ she was.

How she was completely  _fine_ with tearing up corpses in her spare time...

Yet she'd always be utterly grief-stricken at the sight of a child being physically punished.

The woman made no sense to him.

And he  _loathed_ her pretending that he wasn't there. She'd pushed right by him like he was a perfect  _stranger_. Who the  _hell_ did she think she was?

"Sit down f'pete's sake!" her voice suddenly sang out, cutting through his thoughts like an unwelcome cleaver.

Sweeney Todd, was all talk, even in his mind... because despite all his confused mental-ramblings and provocative assumptions...

... he obeyed her completely, slowly wandering towards her like a well-trained lap dog. He sat opposite the two women (who were both equally as silent), scowling down at the pile of rags scattered across the table. He placed his hands flat on the table, like it was a way of steadying himself.

Eleanor bathed one long strand of frayed material in gin, pushing the cloth against the end of the glass bottle, ensuring she coated it thoroughly. She motioned for the girl to come closer, and it wasn't long before Eva reluctantly shuffled towards her.

From the bloodstains on one of the girl's shirt sleeves, Eleanor could tell there was something nasty beneath, so she pushed the thin material upwards. Her eyes widened at a deep, circular laceration, which was stained with scarlet droplets. It was clear what had caused the wound, yet she said nothing. She set to cleansing angry gash immediately, wrapping the long strip of soaked fabric around it tightly.

The girl didn't even flinch, instead, she dropped her head so that her gaze faced the table. From where Mrs Lovett was sitting, it looked like the two people sat near her were both mirroring one another.

"I was there." Eva suddenly said quietly and Sweeney raised his head a fraction at her words, only stopping once he caught sight of Mrs Lovett's gaze. "I was there, last night."

There was an uneasy pause for a second or so whilst the barber and the baker exchanged baffled glances.

"I saw you both." the girl whispered now, her stern, unreadable expression seemed to melt into what appeared to be  _pride_ as she lifted her head to address them both properly. "You were  _dancing,_ of all things. You both looked so... content."

Sweeney Todd had never  _ever_ felt so  _embarrassed_ in his life. His cheeks pinked as he glared at Mrs Lovett, and she was staring back at him, as equally horrified as he was.

"Then again," the girl carried on, gripping the brim of her hat with her thumb and forefinger to carefully place it down on the free space of bench beside her. "Judge Turpin's known for lacing the drinks intended for his targeted victims with dissolving narcotics... or more often than not,  _aphrodisiacs."_

At the mention of his sworn enemy, Sweeney's eyes darted to her. Now that she was finally speaking his language he was deeply intrigued by what she was telling them.

He could get past her spying on Eleanor and himself, then again... perhaps she hadn't attended the ball to watch them? What on Earth would she have been there for? As he looked upon her wounds (which Eleanor was still tending, regardless of her own shock), he knew that they were clearly the outcome of her being at the Judge's event.

_She wasn't supposed to be there._

She could have been  _lying_ for all they knew. But from her physical demeanour, it was clear that she'd unwillingly let her shield down... and from the way she kept on sighing, it was like she was finding the situation difficult too.

"So... you're sayin' that... the Judge  _did_ put summin' funny in that wine?" Eleanor asked hurriedly, snatching up a fresh strip of rag to bind the soaked piece to Eva's weeping forearm.

"Yes."

"And 'ow would you know a thing like that? That's certainly some assumption." Sweeney butted in, narrowing his eyes sceptically.

"Because you both arrived  _alone._ Despite all these shockingly true rumours about you two, the Judge hadn't cottoned on that you were both...  _involved."_ she explained, knitting her dark blonde eyebrows a little as Mrs Lovett snagged the bandage securely, ensuring it was bound properly.

 _"Wait._ Y'said  _victims_ before..." Eleanor stated highly, her tone quizzical as her mind sifted through what she'd just heard. "Are you sayin' that... we were both  _picked?_ At random? If that's true then... to do wot?"

The young girl sighed sadly, dropping her eyes from them both... mainly to hide the hate that resided in them. She swallowed by her urge to vomit, but she knew they both had the right to know. It wasn't fair keeping them both clueless.

"To do his bidding." she replied hoarsely, her voice straining like she had a lump of sadness in her throat. "It was public knowledge quite a few years ago, but back then, the man was younger, of course. Being rich and young  _excused_ him of such things. His tastes soon grew more perverse as he aged, so much so, that he has to be stealthier now if he wishes to fulfil any of his  _vile_  fantasies."

It was then that the two of them trusted her completely. Both of them knew what she was saying had to be true. Though they were fascinated by her and how she knew all of this, they were feeling sick to their stomachs.

The Judge had been planning on using the two of them. Possibly even going as far as  _violating_ them both.

Eleanor gawped at Sweeney, and his eyes blazed at her, his fingers curling into pale talons.

Their revulsion and agitation was imminent.

"W-Why us?!" she whispered out fiercely, shimmering brown orbs searching his black eyes - her hands dropped away from the girl's arm, but only so she could snatch hold of his hands. "W-Why would 'e wanna... do that to - "

"Because the Judge is a sick man." Eva uttered lowly, her grey eyes a mix of sorrow and distaste as she flicked between the two of them. "A very,  _very_ sick man."

Sweeney's eyes widened in realisation as he turned his gaze back on her. His hands tightened, squeezing Eleanor's so tightly that she let out a little yelp.

"It was  _you."_ he whispered, the touch of smirk gracing his lips now that he recalled what Beadle Bamford had told him that night -  _the Judge was ill._

"More or less. I trust he'll be visiting you soon, yes?" the undertaker inquired in a deadpan tone, reaching her stained fingers up to push some of her wine-red hair behind her ear.

_"How did you - ? "_

"There's no need for an explanation, Mr Todd. I just wish to make it known that I'm not here as your  _rival._ I approached your accomplice here some few weeks ago, in hopes of a deal of some kind. Naturally, she hasn't spoken with me again. And rightly so."

Sweeney shot a look if disbelief at Eleanor, who was still being subjected to his death-grip - her form shook slightly and her eyes faltered as she tilted her head slightly to face the girl.

"W-Why us? Wot w-would've 'e done to us?" Eleanor stuttered out, her voice wobbling from the shock of how lucky the two of them had been to get away.  _"Oh 'ell!_ I shoulda just let ya 'elp us - "

 _"Eleanor!_ What  _are_ you saying?!" Sweeney near yelled, harshly sliding up his hands to grip around her flimsy little wrists. The woman looked so fragile. So  _vulnerable._ Why was she so  _helpless_ all of a sudden?

_Where had all of her fighting spirit gone?_

_"No,_ Mr T! I  _shoulda!_ Toby spoke so 'ighly of 'er last night! From the way 'e were behavin' she musta been at  _death's door!"_ she snapped back, snatching her arms out of his grasp as he opened his mouth to protest.

_There it was._

"No, no. I was quite alright, the lad tends to exaggerate. As you can see, just a few bruises and scrapes here and there." Eva remarked, butting in to dissuade them both from having a full blown argument.

"And  _bullet 'oles_ too?" Sweeney mocked, sending her a seething glare - she must have thought they were both blind, it was clear as day what had caused her oozing wound. "Why did the Judge send all those thugs upstairs if you were just poisonin' him? How was he to know? Who  _are_ you to him?"

"You're set on the idea that I  _poisoned_ him, aren't you?" she shot at him firmly, shuffling to sit up straighter, eyebrows dropping down to frame the murky black around her eyes. Her sharp tone had taken both of them by surprise and they flicked their eyes to one another - they were confused.

So very  _confused._

"If I'd poisoned him, I'd have said so, Mr Todd. But I didn't, did I? I said he was  _sick._ Even  _Beadle Bamford_ told you he was awfully ill. Have some decency and  _listen_ to people for once." Eva added, swinging her legs up so that she could sit with them crossed beneath her.

Her obnoxious expression when she lost interest with the conversation and the way she looked away into the distance finally brought Sweeney to the end of his tether.

He snarled, and launched himself up in order to stand, hands balled into fists. Breaths hurtled out of him, his eyes threatening to unleash hell in an instant.

As he did this, Mrs Lovett's feeling of fear and awkwardness vanished once she flicked her eyes between the two of them. And it was replaced with a sudden awareness - thankfully the two people she was studying were too hostile to notice her amazement.

"Both of you drank the wine, didn't you?" Eva's sad voice came again, causing Sweeney to stubbornly frown with surprise - he hadn't anticipated an attempt at more conversation. "For whatever reason, he'd chosen the two of you to be his  _entertainment._ Thankfully, I managed to cause a diversion to hinder his plans to use you as play-things. I'm not asking for your thanks, but... please bear that in mind, Mr Todd."

Sweeney lost all tension in his body as he slumped back down, his head idly hanging downwards in defeat.

Eleanor looked like she'd seen a ghost, her usually pale yet peaky complexion now white as winter snow. Before she was able to adorn her mask, or tear her attention away from the girl sat beside her, the tears in her faltering eyes gave away her realisation...

"I couldn't allow him to do that to either of you." Eva added quietly, a film of tears threatening to spill over once she returned the baker's gaze.  _"Not in a million years."_

Before either of the dark couple found any words to string together, Eva sprung up from her seat, swiping her hat into her hands as she did so. Before turning away from them, she nodded to Sweeney, and then to Eleanor - who only just caught her muttering a grateful  _"thank you"_ \- before she limped her way out of the courtyard, in order to slipstream into her hunting grounds of Fleet Street.

Both Sweeney and Eleanor were silent, too stunned as they trailed their eyes after her. Given the girl was a little worse for wear, they only just concealed gasps of astonishment as she began  _climbing_ up the facade of one of the shops across the street from them. Her blackened feet pushed off window sills, her equally grubby hands grappling onto conveniently designed gables.

They both bit back the urge to ramble incessantly to one another, and instead, their hands met across the table. One squeeze of the hands was enough of a comfort for them to breathe out muted sighs of relief.

All Sweeney had wanted, was some  _answers._

And instead, he'd plummeted into an even more darkened room with barricaded windows.


	30. Hook

"D-Do we  _'ave_ to go there tonight?" Toby whined, his small legs struggling to keep up with Miss Fiori's effortlessly smooth pace.

"Of course." she replied simply, carrying on as straight as she could, swerving out of the way of anyone on the grimy street ahead of her.

"B-But why?! Wot d'ya even  _do_ anyway? You's been there nearly every night an' ya always gone for so long - "

Eva paused abruptly, causing him to crash into her. She swivelled around, defined brows lowering into a brief warning as she seized him by both of his shoulders.

"That is none of your concern." she whispered, the boy could tell she was holding her temper due to the way her eyes seared into him. "You are far too curious for your own good. And rather selfish. I didn't specify that you were to follow me everywhere, did I? In fact, you can run along home and wait for me, there's no need for you to even come with me."

 _"No!"_ he yelled out, face alight with alarmed worry.

Some of the strangers around the two of them briefly glanced at them, nosy enough to give them their attention, but not nosy enough to stop what they were doing completely.

_A distraught child wasn't worth their time._

"I-I don't wanna be by meself." he muttered glumly, lowering his head so she couldn't see the disappointment in his beading brown eyes.

She let out a huff of amusement - her eyes were filled with mirth yet she didn't quite smile, ensuring her sincere authority was still in place.

"You really want to head to Fleet Street, don't you? What if Mr Todd makes an appearance?" she poked, actually beaming a wicked smile as he lifted his head to widen his eyes at her.

When the boy didn't reply verbally, she sighed in reluctant defeat, letting go of him before turning around in order to be on her way. He didn't move for a second or so, but then ended up scampering after her. Even with all of those strangers around them, the cobbled street made the lad feel vulnerable.

Before he'd met Miss Fiori, he'd never once thought about the true dangers lurking around the city he lived in. Now that he was more aware of the snide goings-on, he hated being alone, especially beneath the black sheet of night sky.

He scuttled over the slippery cobbles to push his way through the stream of street-goers, shoving his way forwards in order to walk beside the undertaker.

When Eva felt his shoulder barging into her as he slowed down to sidle next to her, she rolled her eyes and kept her gaze dead-ahead, focusing on Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium - which was just across the road from them now. Something about the way the place's chimney churned out black fog caused her to smirk with pride. It seemed that parts around Fleet Street were certainly shaping up to be somewhat  _cleaner._

Before the lad caught hold of his bearings, she clutched a hand on his shoulder, dragging him through the current of deadpan civilians. They diagonally cut the crowd in half, Toby's eyes darting about to take every angle in.

Once the mass of people cleared, the sight of Mrs Lovett's domain was rather a welcome one. Although the place's courtyard was thriving with gobbling customers, and poignantly vibrant from the various bird cages and flickering lanterns - there was no sign of the ever-cheery baker. The buoyant woman's presence was something that Miss Fiori had gotten used to greeting her those past few successful nights.

In all honestly, she really did like the woman - she found it impossible not to admire Eleanor's intelligent masks, all of them adorned for different purposes. It was clear to Eva, that the baker was likely the backbone of Mr Todd's vengeance, whether he knew it or not.

Hence, the woman had him on a wonderfully secure see-through string.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she found herself stood amongst the cluttered tables. She couldn't recall the journey from the cobbles to the stone-cut slabs beneath her feet. She frowned, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, then exhaled deeply, blindly navigating her way towards her usual table - which was by the side of the windows, that way she had a view of both interior and exterior of the premises.

"Sit down." Eva instructed, patting the bit of bench beside her. The lad obeyed her enthusiastically, smiling up at her as he clung to her arm. Despite the lad being eleven or twelve-years-old, he acted like he was still about eight - the undertaker had spotted this almost instantaneously, and had scorched him for his behaviour at first. But it had been in vain, because she'd finally given in and allowed him to cling onto her like an annoying little flea.

It wasn't clear whether she was exploiting his innocence. Perhaps she didn't even know herself.

Yet she couldn't deny that his trust was certainly a  _useful_  advantage.

Now that it was routine for Miss Fiori to visit Mrs Lovett most nights, Eva decided she'd sit patiently, awaiting the baker's arrival to the courtyard. This was something they'd silently agreed upon, otherwise the undertaker's consistent approaches would have spurred on someone's suspicions.

"So whatcha 'ere for 'is time then?" Toby asked loudly, swinging his legs back and forth beneath the table. His face was bright as his voice was chirpy when he peered across at the bustle of Fleet Street, watching the constant flow of humans trickling by.

Knowing that it may be some time before Eleanor Lovett emerged, Eva fished out a small pouch from her inner jacket pocket, pincer-ing out a few fine objects from inside.

"I believe you've tried asking me that before, Toby. I'm hardly going to have changed my mind when only a few minutes have passed." she replied with disinterest, her void-like tone due to all of her concentration being centred on viewing the small rips over her left sleeve. As she flicked her attention away from the weary tears in the material, she carefully threaded a small needle in her right pincer, eyeing the chattering boy next her like she was subconsciously pleading that he'd shut up soon...

"... I don't know, Mr Todd's just always frownin', I don't like 'im. I-I saw 'im and Mrs Lovett few nights ago t-together... k-kissin' and the like... a-an'... it ain't right that she's with 'im!"

"Oh really, how's that?" she cut in, swiftly starting to sew up one of the rips over her left forearm, her expression one of indifference.

" 'E's... not very nice. Someone nice like 'er deserves someone good an'  _proper._  'E don't treat 'er right, she don't need t'be livin' wi' that  _screw_ all 'er life - "

"Do  _not_ speak of Mr Todd in that way, boy." she suddenly snapped as she briefly turned to scorch him with her eyes, harshly pulling a thread upwards, tightening the rip together - before blindly piercing another hole in her fabric. "It's all well and good having an opinion on the man, but do  _not_ disrespect him. He is an adult, so do not forget your place, nor your current company. I don't take kindly to assumptions you've made because you're scared of him. In fact, I'm willing to bet that you haven't even had a real conversation with Mr Todd."

Toby blushed a blatant shade of crimson and he lowered his head to gaze at the wooden surface of the table.

His embarrassment for being put in his place caused his chatter to disappear and he wore a great sulk, stubbornly crossing his arms over.

The only sound between them was the friction of sewn thread and fabric, a sound that was so icy the two of them dared not interrupt it. Before one of them even contemplated stirring up conversation, the undertaker's attention shifted to a small person pushing their way through the swarms of people from the direction of Bell Court - it was clear to Eva that the little child was headed her way.

She inhaled sharply, tightening the strand of thread before lowering her head to bite off the end and tie a small, yet secure knot over the material - it seemed the approaching child had distracted her, so she unfortunately wasn't striving for jacket-perfection.

To any stranger, it may have seemed strange or alarming that a child was desperately shoving through a predominantly adult crowd, all in order to seek comfort from the neighbourhood undertaker. But Miss Fiori insisted that the less people knew, the better.

As the small child neared, finally emerging from the oblivious masses, it became clear to Eva who it was.

It was a girl with white-blond hair, no more than six or seven, who had once seeked shelter at Miss Fiori's residence. After one night, the child had insisted she left despite the undertaker's concerns - she had made sure that the girl knew that she'd be more than welcome to approach her should she need to in the future.

In spite of the young woman's appearance, shady demeanour and violent tendencies, it seemed she had a weakness for helping children.

She always felt she had a calling whenever a child turned to her for help.

Closer still, Eva could see streams of tears dripping from the girl's green eyes, rivers of salt slicing into her red cheeks.

Before the child even set foot in Mrs Lovett's courtyard, Miss Fiori turned to Toby.

"Don't say a word." she breathed, eyes trailing the girl's journey around the benches until she rushed out of view, presumably close to approaching them.

 _"M-Miss F-Fiori!"_ she stuttered out of her little lungs, matted blonde hair swinging behind her as she came to a halt, face to face with the back of who she'd come to think of as a guardian to her.

Eva swung around, her expression unreadable, though her eyes were filled with all the sadness she truly felt. Seeing a young child crying caused her to draw comparisons to her own upbringing - which was a rather salvaged, independent one. It was something she never wished to remember.

She much preferred the present.

"Bernadette - ?"

Before she had chance to ask what was wrong, the girl darted forwards and latched a hug around her. She sighed, squeezing her eyes closed as she lowered her chin to rest over the girl's head of white hair.

"What is it? What's wrong?" she breathed, unable to resist embracing Bernadette in an attempt at comfort.

" 'S Melissa, Miss! I saw a Scout takin' 'er a fair way down the Strand! She were kickin' an' screamin'! I-I don' know wot t'do! P-Please 'elp!"

"A Watchman?" she replied softly yet sternly as her body stiffened - her brow furrowed in thought as she considered the girl's words. "What did he look like? Can you remember for me?"

The undertaker's tone was so abnormally kind, that even Toby swivelled to face the scene, mouth agape with wonder. The woman had clearly adjusted herself so that Bernadette was completely at ease with confiding in her.

 _"I-I don't know!"_ Bernadette cried out, snatching her head upwards in order to bury her face in Eva's extremely tender shoulder. "P-Please don' make me remember, Miss!  _Please!"_

The undertaker briefly glanced towards Toby, wearing a look the lad had come to know far too well. He wouldn't wish those unrelenting eyes on anyone - he knew that she intended to well and truly get rid of this child's problem entirely.

He  _supposed_ so, at least.

He hadn't actually witnessed his guardian in the act of murder as of yet - and he didn't wish to. He was aware that she wasn't the cleanest of souls, but it hadn't quite dawned on him just how corrupted she truly was. Rather like a certain baker that he also thought the world of...

As Bernadette continued to cry into Eva's tailcoat, she was hushed, oblivious to the calculating eyes of her comforter. Eva carefully pushed her away, the disconcerting gaze now replaced with warmth.

"Sit here."

Eva shuffled away from Toby and motioned towards the space between them. The girl leaped forwards and clumsily sat crossed legged next to them both, sniffling as she tightly snaked her arm around Eva's forearm.

"I know it's hard, but it would really help me very much if you could tell me more about the man you saw. If you tell me I can make them ugly tears go away." Eva spoke slowly, eyes scanning over the crowd of munching customers, daring one of them to stare their way.

She briefly noticed a young man sprinting upstairs to the barber, a few of the munching customers turning a head towards the rush of footsteps. Even from the courtyard below, everyone heard the door bursting open and the boy's shout of  _"Todd"_ loud and clear.

 _Anthony Hope wasn't one for being_ discrete,  _it seemed._

For Eva, the stranger wasn't important enough to attract her attention, even if she had to admit her interest was  _somewhat_ sparked. Yet the little girl sat beside her was too distraught for her to be distracted completely. Waves of anger seared through her veins as Bernadette resumed her tale of abduction through tumbles of tears. The little girl leaned towards Toby so that she could glare her pleading eyes up at her guardian, her arms soon closing around his arm in a desperate clutch instead.

Anthony's face contorted into a look of confusion as he quickly scanned the shop for its barber. His bewilderment swiftly passed into optimism as he pushed himself away from the shop's door-frame. The young sailor knew that there was a possibility that Mr Todd's landlady downstairs may have been able to help him with the barber's whereabouts - in fact, he was glad to have some assistance from someone of her seemingly  _kind_ disposition.

He hastily turned on his heels, racing down the stairs - his feet weren't so conspicuous to attract any prying eyes this time.

At first, everyone was oblivious to him making his way through the courtyard, including Miss Fiori - who was still entranced by the little girl's sorrow-filled account. He jolted around the corner to Mrs Lovett's front door, hurriedly heading inside without any further delay.

Eva was unaware of the sailor's actions on the other side of the window beside her, eyebrows meeting in a wince as she searched Bernadette's sad eyes.

She froze her movements, eyes glazing over when a sudden feeling of foreboding came over her.

Bernadette's innocent voice became a monotonous drone in the background, disgruntled thoughts taking away her focus. Toby's inquisitive tone soon joined the harmonic sound of the girl's voice - he was directing his words to the tearful child, realising that his guardian appeared to have lost interest.

The undertaker reluctantly tore her eyes from the traumatic torrent of tears next to her, sensing movement in her peripheral vision.

Her eyes rested and observed the engaging scene, which was only taking place a few metres away in the shop, on the other side of Mrs Lovett's net-curtains.

The outgoing baker was stood behind the counter, hurriedly babbling away to a scruffy-looking sailor, her face thoroughly flushed red and her dress very much askew. Although the sight of a messily dressed Mr Todd emerging from the direction of the parlour caused Eva's eyes to widen, it was  _Anthony Hope's_ presence that actually caught her interest. Ignoring the shiftiness of the blushing barber as he stood next to his accomplice, she watched the young man wringing his hands nervously, his muted words earning a frown from Mr Todd.

She desperately wanted to know what the man was saying - presumably a  _plot_ of sorts. She knew his type.

_All figurative armour, he'd truly have no guts within his body._

In fact, now she studied his nervous mannerisms, Eva was  _certain_ she'd met the young man somewhere before.

Her frown of interest grew deeper when Mr Todd gave a jarred nod of his head. He didn't look particularly happy about his agreement since his gaze dropped to the ground beneath his feet immediately afterwards. She could just imagine his hands balled into fists by his sides, and then Mrs Lovett subtly calming him by stroking a consoling hand down the side of his arm.

It was odd how she knew so much about them already. The fact the two weren't married baffled her, though she knew from her own experience, that it was probably because  _murder_ tended to get in the way of certain things.

As she watched the sailor ramble on, he grew far more deranged-looking as he unveiled more about his plans of romantically eloping.

The baker and the barber subtly exchanged concerned glances - silently, it appeared the two of them were reconsidering the lad's usefulness. Their doubts soon vanished however, and Mr Todd was the first to shift his attention away from her - he knew she'd still be staring at him, and for that reason, he bit the inside of his cheek to stop a smirk from evolving.

The young man was too far into his frenzy of future plans, and elaborate schemes of breaking Johanna free from the clutches of Judge Turpin to notice that he'd clearly interrupted them both (or rather, alerted them enough to force them to part mouths with one another) as soon as he'd walked into the place.

Trying not to concentrate on the humorous situation of Mrs Lovett trying exceptionally hard to distract Mr Todd, Eva inspected Anthony thoroughly.

 _Where?_ Where had she seen the young man before? She narrowed her eyes at him, like she expected that to help her figure out who he was to her. His familiarity irritated her...

However, it was his stuttered half-bow as he turned to leave when she finally managed to connect the dots.

Her eyes sprang open wide, her breath harshly seizing into an airy sigh of annoyance. She jumped to her feet, knocking the side of Toby (who now had Bernadette sat on his lap) as she did so, already bracing her body so that she wouldn't run out of breath if she had to make a run for it.

_"Miss Fiori! Where ya go - ? "_

"Stay here and stay quiet. Don't you  _dare_ move from that seat, Tobias Ragg, or you shall have me to answer to. Look after Bernadette, I shan't be gone long."

Eva darted out from the rows of tables, the brim of her hat shading over her eyes - only just shadowing the blazing fury she was unable to hold back. She bit her tongue until she could taste iron, her mouth in an unsuspecting line.

All she felt as she started to tail him from afar, was such  _seething_ animosity that she was finding it hard to control herself. Already, she had ruined her previous plans by succumbing to her anger when she had been present at the Judge's party. She shouldn't have caused such a public spectacle... she hated herself for being so  _unprofessional._ Then again, she'd enjoyed observing such tyrannical chaos.

Nevertheless, she would be extra cautious of herself this time.

Anthony was kicking his feet over the cobbles, keeping his head low like he too, was attempting to keep a low profile under the public eye. His scruffy clothes appeared to be two sizes too big, and from his shifting about, he was clearly uncomfortable. Even though he held his head low, he managed to swerve in and out of other people, ensuring he didn't have to interact with them.

Despite his suspicious behaviour, his brown eyes were somewhat hopeful - presumably, he was optimistic about his plans to free Johanna. He wanted nothing more than to escape the blasted city with the innocent young thing on his arm. He would be blessed if such a thing were to happen successfully.

_He was delusional._

And Eva Fiori knew  _exactly_ who Anthony Hope was.

Unlike Mr Todd, she only killed once she had a decent amount of knowledge. She had her whisperers who breathed out anything she needed to know of. The majority of her connections were teenagers, or sometimes even children as young as toddlers. She knew that within their time of childhood innocence and simple minds, their words were far more trustworthy than any half-shot tramp or frolocking floozy.

And they'd  _certainly_ spoken of  _Anthony._

The young man wasn't just an  _aspiring knight_ that was plagued with sunny dreams of eloping...

That was just what he wished everyone to see. That's what he  _always_ liked to use as his mask.

It was a pity for him - if he'd changed his ways, Eva wouldn't have looked twice at him.

His tousled dark blonde hair appeared to sweeten him, and she felt her nausea emerge immediately. She wondered how many girls he had managed to take advantage of, just because he looked so pure and honest. She wondered how many places he'd buried them in, how many ports he'd docked in to only start his abhorrent delusions all over again.

Eva was not going to allow him to repeat his sickening routine with Johanna Barker. She'd never forgive herself if she did.

Her thoughts had blinded her, and she was only just beginning to take notice of her surroundings. The winter chill gripped its claws around every being who dared to step across the perilous cobbles of the street, breaths puffing out into white vapour from the sharp cold.

She couldn't  _wait_ to take those breaths away from Anthony Hope.

She tailed him as he shuffled through London's claustrophobic streets, rounded corners and raced into gaps between strangers - he yearned to avoid any contact at all costs. He was a bag of nerves, it seemed.

After about ten minutes of following him, she sensed that he'd had a change of heart in terms of direction.

As they reached a dockland area, his strides became more confident and his head even lifted up a little more. She frowned at him as he swerved towards the gushing gutters on the opposite side of the street they were on, cutting up the steady line of dawdling mariners (who cursed him for doing so).

As he slipped into a secluded alleyway, Eva's body woke up and sprung into action. Knowing the streets like the back of her hand, she stood on the tip-toes of her worn-out boots, blindly reaching up to claw her fingers around a small gable on the wall behind her. She hoisted herself upwards until her feet found a brick ledge to push off from.

Anthony was  _unbelievably_ nonchalant with his walking pace. Luckily, this played in her favour.

Once she reached the slate roof, she spied frayed ropes hanging down from the walls of the establishments either side of him. What a  _glorious_ opportunity to get him.

She crouched down, feet precariously balanced over the roof's ledge as she glared at him from beneath her stove-pipe's brim. As she extended her arms out and prepared her leg muscles to jump, a few onlookers from the bustling street below gawped in intrigued horror.

Before she attracted too much attention, she leaped across to the opposite rooftop, scrambling over the stacked roof tiles with ease now that she had plenty of adrenaline-fuelled momentum. Clouds of powdered dust trailed after her as she sprinted across the roof-tiles, which were glistening from the thin sheet of frost they wore.

With her eyes narrowed in concentration, she allowed herself to slide down, towards the clearing between the two buildings - which was where Anthony was about to appear. In a controlled fall, she emerged from the rooftop's ledge, one hand swiping up the tethered ropes which were attached to the building's framework.

Anthony heard the sound of her landing but did not show any signs of concern, walking straight by her with a puzzled expression.

Before he had chance to get away, Eva sucked in an enormous breath of air before she tugged the ropes with her, running at him from behind. Her chapped fingers clawed around the bristly rope, extending it out in front of her with both hands. She raised it above her head, and from the sound of rushing footsteps, Anthony briefly paused, twisting his back to peer over his shoulder.

His eyes widened and he inhaled sharply, but it was too late to unleash a shriek - she'd already reached up and bent the line of rope around his neck, pulling him tightly towards her.

Anthony wheezed out harshly, his slender arms batting her hands away from him. She quietly growled in irritation, and within seconds, he'd managed to find some strength to throw her off him, the weaved rope loudly snapping to the wall as he launched himself forwards.

He made a run for it down the slimy alley way, his lungs doing over-time as he picked up the pace. His mind was racing with confused explanations, eyes darting about to evaluate his surroundings - he had to react quickly, especially when he didn't know what this attacker's aim was.

As he scrambled to gain a few metres space, he took a sharp left, deciding to head down the nearby row of butchers.

Even though there were people on the street, they didn't seem phased that a man was being chased by a dodgy-looking woman during the night. He pushed past pig carcasses which were strung out and proudly on show in the middle of the road. Knowing that his assailant would expect him to run in a straight line, he instead ducked to his left, taking a path into a large industrial building.

It appeared that this building also belonged to the butchers out on the streets - once he was inside, he was amazed by how vacant the place was. He'd expected it to be thriving with workers, even late at night. There was no meat hung out to bleed, no smell of salt or iron, no loud whirring of any industrial machines...

Even though the place was eerie due to its emptiness, he still carried on powering ahead, scanning for an exit out of the building - there  _had_ to be another way out on the other side...

It wasn't long before the echoes of his attacker's footsteps reached his ears and he suddenly lost his focus. His eyes started to wander to the intimidating cast-iron walkways above him which were stained red-brown, presumably from the nature of the work that happened in such a slaughterhouse.

He then studied the iron girders holding the building together - he hated extremely high ceilings, he found all that space above him to be extremely unnerving... especially when rows and rows of meat hooks were also dangling from thick, oily chains above him too.

Eva clenched her jaw, calculating Anthony's every move.

Each of her steady footsteps sloshed rhythmically onto thin layers of blood beneath her boots - which was slowly trickling into the gutters of London outside. It seemed all sorts of substances were being lulled into the sewer system. From this alone, it could have been said that Mr Todd's diabolical outlook was almost  _excusable._

Her eyes followed the direction she saw his head facing - he'd finally come to the end of his straight run, and it appeared there was no obvious door to escape out of. She held back a smirk as he headed for the stairs up to the higher iron walkway, his pace slowing significantly now that he was on engineered surfaces.

She chased him across the metal mesh, her stamina far better than his - especially now that he was loudly panting out for her to cease tormenting him.

 _"Why?!"_ he gasped out, his fatigue finally hitting him. "Why are you doing this?!"

Instead of giving him an answer, she slammed her feet down twice as hard as she ran after him, the dense, metallic noise causing him to let out a unconcealed squeak.

Too focused on his enemy, Anthony's feet skidded over some bloody droplets which were laying in wait over the iron floor beneath his precarious shoes. Due to his alarmed state, he was oblivious to the environment around him...

Terrified and completely out of his comfort zone, the murder-house began to get to him. The rafters looked greyer than they had before, the humidity in the place was suddenly insufferable and now he studied the place in a little more depth - there were small smears of blood every here and there...

Growing psychologically scared of his environment, he risked a glance back to his assailant, brown eyes widening with realisation as his shoes lost their grip on the man-made mesh. He inhaled sharply as he felt himself tumbling backwards, towards the end of the platform - once his contact with the metallic ground was lost completely, it was clear that there was no way for him to redeem himself. He soared backwards, his arms stretching out towards Eva in some hope that she'd reach out and save him.

To her, he did not  _deserve_ redemption.

She merely stared, grey eyes briefly flickering with sadistic curiosity as she watched him descend.

Before the young man had a chance to cry out for help, or discover some pathetic chance at an apology, his spine curved outwards, splaying out his arms and legs upwards. This only caused him to double-over and let out a melancholic wheeze - a futile action that was soon hindered as soon as his lower back collided with a slender, yet precise hook.

_One that was suspended from the ceiling, and intended for an animal..._

His eyes bulged out with the pain, his voice-box was drowning within his own rising blood. Thick burgundy droplets trailed down his chin as he felt the suspended meat hook sink further into him, dangerously close to piercing his vital organs.

Gravity began to gently pull him backwards, and it was then the hook finally tore into him. His scream of agony was muffled from the blood pumping up his airways to flood out of his mouth.

Eva cautiously stepped to the edge of the walkway, seemingly un-phased, yet she couldn't help the mirth that filled her eyes.

She found the sight of him bleeding out before her conniving eyes, incredibly  _ironic._ She'd chased him all that way and in the end, he'd just made a fateful mistake and killed himself instead.

She crossed her arms over, sighing as she shook her head at him - his arms were still shaking and extended out towards her. It was another pathetic attempt at hope - hope that she'd  _save_ him.

"No," Eva finally spoke, slowly gripping the brim of her hat to take it off, placing it over her chest in mock respect. "I think you've surpassed having the right to live, Mr Hope, don't you? I think it'd be best if you just hung around and contemplated every decision you've ever made. And I  _hope_  you regret the majority of them, I really do."

He scowled, his usually sweet features mashing into a twisted form of demented loathing. He tried to yell back at her but ended up coughing up more crimson liquid, his entire body shaking as he felt the hook impaling him even deeper.

He finally gave up trying to survive, and accepted that his fate had finally been decided. Miss Fiori silently watched him die from the platform a few metres above, silently studying the life as it drained out of him. It hadn't been too long from the initial impact of the sharp hook until he'd snuffed it completely.

She stood for a moment, just taking in the gory image of him hanging there - a pool of blood had developed on the stone slabs below, presumably from the run off of his body. His brown eyes were open but empty, his arms and legs were hanging limply - even his carcass looked feeble and sickly.

He had the same demise as any livestock that traipsed through the doors of the very slaughterhouse he'd died in...

Eva let out a disappointed sigh, taking her bloodshot eyes from Anthony's body to peer over the ledge of the walkway. She spotted a few sewer grates.

At least she'd have somewhere to shift his body for the time being...


	31. Reliance

"What's takin' the lad so long?" Mr Todd complained, eyes slitting through the veil of Mrs Lovett's net curtains in order to survey the murky blackness outside. The barber was clearly growing suspicious - he'd expected to find Anthony Hope setting foot on Fleet Street again as soon as he'd begun spying through the dusty glass of Mrs Lovett's Emporium. Inevitably, he'd been stood motionless, merely staring upon nothing but mocking shadows... for quite some time now.

"Oh don't worry 'bout 'im, Mr T." Eleanor answered from somewhere behind him -  _it was likely that she was behind the counter_ \- with a voice that was far too cheery for Mr Todd's liking. "I'm sure 'e'll 'ave just got 'eld up somewhere, is all."

He inhaled sharply with annoyance, swivelling around to set his dark eyes on her. She quietly crept out from the counter, looking rather unimpressed with how much offence he'd apparently taken from her words - she was only trying to calm him down, for god's sakes! Why couldn't he see that? What had made him feel so  _insulted?_

"Held up?! Held up  _how?!_ He was supposed to be here an  _'our_ ago, Mrs Lovett." the barber spat, storming after her, knowing that as soon as she'd turned away, she was clearly headed towards the bake-house. After all, it was getting to that time of night where they had to shift a good lot of bodies before Mr Todd decided on adding a few more unfortunate whelps into the floury mix.

"Well there's no need t'be so concerned now, is there? 'S likely there's a perfectly understandable explanation for 'im bein' late. You need to stop frettin', dear. Ya no use to anybody if ya doin' 'at." she replied in a strict tone whilst moving forwards, though every one of her vowels was coated in calm reassurance.

In truth, Mrs Lovett couldn't have given less of a damn about Anthony Hope. Johanna Barker's welfare didn't directly affect her, and therefore, she found the matter of the two lovers eloping almost  _trivial._ She envied the girl, of course. She'd have given  _anything_ for Mr Todd to whisper in her ear and flee the city with her by his side,  _or in his arms..._

_Like that was ever going to happen._

She knew the barber's thought patterns were horrifically skewed, meaning every concern he had probably seemed ten times worse.

 _Of course,_ he hadn't thought about Johanna being  _well-off_ and  _free_ of her miserable life just because he'd kill her pig of a guardian...

 _Of course,_ his brain attempted to keep one step ahead... he shouldn't have, it seemed he was forever juggling schemes, mood swings and misunderstood feelings all at once. He never gave himself time to consider his options.

 _Of course..._ he trusted Anthony Hope, and felt he owed the boy for his valiant efforts aboard the ship to London.

Anthony's loyalty apparently counted more than Mrs Lovett's did.

Then again, Mr Todd wouldn't have been stood before her if the lad hadn't pulled him from the water...

In Eleanor's opinion, she'd done considerably more for him. She longed for such trust between them both, or at least, longed for one that he didn't verbally withhold from her. She wanted to see the certainty in his gaze, to see that flicker which let her know just how much he was relying on her...

_She knew._

She just wanted him to stop burying his iron-clad chest of trust - she yearned for him to unleash it from his eyes, his mouth, his  _entire physical being..._

Eleanor Lovett felt like she was much more important than a pining sailor.

She began to wonder if he'd noticed her wearing a glum expression, because he huffed out in annoyance and ordered her to wait so that he could catch up to her.

Now out of her thoughts, she realised she'd reached the bake-house doors, standing before them with a bewildered expression - her neck hairs stood on end, presumably because Mr Todd was closer to the back of her than she had probably expected.

"So you think that I'm to stop my suspicions, and then what am I to do, Mrs Lovett?  _Wait?!"_

She smiled at him and shook her head, her eyes filled with warm amusement, "No 'o course not, silly man. We's got a load bodies t'shift down below, it oughta take ya mind offa thi - "

"Oh,  _she's_ not turned up then, 'as she?! How  _typical._ And  _you_ were the one that  _insisted_ we allowed her to assist us." he quipped, seizing hold of his opportunity to outsmart her as soon as she'd accidentally given him the fuel to do so.

"Look, Mr T, I'm just as frustrated 'bout 'er absence as you are, but it's jus' this once so don't think she's like 'is all the bleedin' time. She's a great 'elp and don't ya start thinkin' otherwise!"

She creaked open each door, not wasting any more time loitering about. She ducked inside, hoisting up her skirts so that she didn't trip over.

 _"You're_ one t'be shoutin' off 'bout 'elp anyway,  _aren't ya?_ You've barely raised a finger to 'elp me this past week." she added, stubbornly avoiding his gaze as she delved further into the pitch black. As she started to turn to face him, however, she immediately met his blazing eyes - eyes which were filled with rage from her snarky comment - even though what she'd uttered had been the blatant  _truth._

He growled as he slammed the cupboard doors behind him, darting forwards to give a firm shove to her shoulder. She stumbled back down a few stairs, her eyes wide with fear... or perhaps it  _wasn't_ fear - either way she certainly hadn't anticipated him lashing out this time.

" 'ow  _dare_ you say that, Eleanor." he snapped, hastily following her down the stairs. "You know perfectly well 'ow I've 'elped you. Meat's just the  _icing_ for you, isn't it? I  _know_ you'd do anything for me to warm your bed each night. Don't think that I don't know what you want from me."

She turned away from him and trod down the stairs, head faced down to angrily glare at the dingy surface below her boots. She ignored the fact he was ridiculously near to the back of her and kept going until she reached the bottom - as she reached her hands out to fling open the dense, iron door which concealed the contents of the bake-house, she gasped out, feeling his callous palms pushing into her shoulder-blades. She fell forwards, turning her head to the side so that her cheek met with the cold metallic surface of the door. If she hadn't done such a thing, she'd probably have broken her nose.

Her lungs loudly exhaled, and she felt uncomfortably excited when he pressed himself to the back of her, mouth lingering by her left ear. She could smell her own scent on him - it must have mixed in with his cologne since their last voluptuous rendezvous, which hadn't taken place that long ago...

"Don't take that girl's side." he hissed, holding her in place with his tenacious palms, his hot breath skirting across her cheek. "Neither of us are certain whether we can trust 'er."

 _"Oh!"_ she exclaimed highly, eyebrows raising as his lips grazed over the skin of her cheekbones. "I'm takin' 'er side  _well an' truly,_ Mr T. I've 'ad it with you changin' the subject right after ya insult me. Ya really think I'm that nitty, do ya?"

"No." he replied - her skin felt his answer too as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, his hands sneaking their way around her waist.

She sighed out, her body practically a shaking pile of bones as he unexpectedly moved his mouth towards hers. An arm dragged its way up her front, the fingers on the end of a hand catching her chin to tilt her head to face him. When their lips finally met, she knew that he was attempting to physically change her mind... but she wasn't going to. This fact alone made their bittersweet kiss that little more enjoyable for her.

Before she could push him off her to break the gentle news that his skulking method of manipulation hadn't worked, his arms had shuffled her around so that she faced him properly - this only caused their kiss to deepen, his hands unafraid to explore her body.

Her mouth fought against his, but all sense, power and purpose left her mind - his actions had hypnotised her, charmed her...  _distracted_ her. His arms coiled loosely around her ribs, adding pressure as he leaned into the passionate caress. His overwhemingly pleasant actions forced her to lean her back against the heavy-duty door for support.

As their mouths evolved to become even more daring and heated, muffled thuds seeped in through from the other side of the door - thuds which were soon followed by scrapes and the faint crackling of hungry flames. The two of them frowned in confusion but found that it wasn't enough for them to tear away from each other.

Sweeney's palms flattened against her waist and he pushed her backwards even more, causing her head to fall back and hit the door with a clang. Eleanor moaned out, too dumbstruck now that she had a niggling pain in the back of her skull... and an aroused barber attacking her in the most pleasurable way imaginable.

It wasn't long before her moans slipped out through brief breaks between their lips, his own short breaths joining the little sounds of appreciation she let out.

Just as one of Sweeney's hands reached down to hike up her skirts, a louder sound of something smacking the ground ricocheted through the door, causing the two of them to freeze over each others mouths. Their eyes flew open. They stared at one another silently - Eleanor subconsciously pleaded that he'd ignore the noise and continue smothering her with his mouth, yet Sweeney had already pulled away.

His gaze was still wide as he gazed at her however, she even swore to herself that she could see a slight  _reluctance_ in his black irises. Her eyelashes fluttered as he drew his hand back up her body, settling on the base of her abdomen.

He leaned in close, hiding the beautifully dark windows to his soul, his breath panting out over her bare shoulder.

 _"Move."_ he breathed calmly, though it was clear from his grip around her middle that he was far from easy. The man was panicked, even more so as he guided her out of the way of the door - he practically  _tossed her aside_ when the loud noises emerged again.

His shaky hands pried open the door once his accomplice was out of his way - it flung wide open, revealing the catastrophic sight of their secret slaughterhouse.

A familiar figure was luminated by the light of the roaring oven, the door was open and they were leaned forwards... they appeared to be stoking it up so it wasn't going to burn out.

The fuel they were using was  _certainly_ unlikely to be wood as it appeared to  _melt_ once they placed it over the flames, scolding away into nothing but ash and brief glints of light.

 _"I don't believe this."_ Sweeney murmured, shaking his head as his eyes adjusted to the darkness... and rested on  _Eva Fiori,_ who had already been at work,  _apparently._ There was a small pile of neatly folded clothes, fresh puddles of red confined to the slabs beneath the meat grinder, and the poignant smell of scolded flesh.

" 'Ow long 'ave  _you_ been 'ere?!" Eleanor asked when she followed the barber inside, her expression a mix of annoyance and slight embarrassment - she was hoping that the young girl hadn't heard the two of them close to giving themselves to each other... she was more than a little peeved that the girl had been there to interrupt things in the first place.

If Miss Fiori had been there at the allocated time, Eleanor wouldn't have felt so stupid... or  _weak._

The girl had usually been so punctual, so why hadn't she tonight? Something didn't quite add up.

"I've been here for quite a while." Eva replied when she shrugged off her tailcoat, folding it into a neat square before dropping it on one of the cleaner slabs of the bake-house. "Not that it matters, of course. What took you so long to get down here tonight?"

Sweeney scowled at her, genuinely angered by her ignorance.

"We were waiting for  _you."_ he spat, briefly glowering at Mrs Lovett, who was already heading past him, over to the girl's side. "You weren't at your usual place. You just left it to that useless  _brat_ to 'old your table instead."

He stood motionless, awaiting a hostile response, but she just rolled up her shirt sleeves and bent over to drag a body closer to the meat grinder. He narrowed his eyes at her, then shot a confused glance at his accomplice... Eleanor too, was already getting on with chopping limbs away from a lanky-looking body.

He couldn't believe the two of them.

He couldn't  _believe_ Miss Fiori's nerve - her attitude was reckless and her demeanour was  _far_ too suspicious for his liking, especially on this particular evening.

And he certainly couldn't believe  _Eleanor Lovett_ \- it was like she'd  _crossed_ him...

But as he cast his gaze back to her, he found himself starting to feel engrossed by the sight of her...

The swift chops she applied to cut through every tendon, the look of concentration on her features, the auburn hair that hung beside her face, the ghostly skin that was tinted golden from the glow of the oven, the way she was dipped down low to unintentionally give him an eyeful...

He shook his head.

 _No._ She'd taken the undertaker's side. He wasn't to let her win.

It wasn't long before Mr Todd joined the two women, wearing a great sulk on his face. He wasn't happy with Miss Fiori's presence - knowing him, he would never be content with the young woman's company. Nevertheless, he kept his mouth in a stern line and set to work.

That night, three pairs of bloodied hands dragged bodies, undressed bodies,  _dismembered_ bodies, double-checked bodies, thieved bodies, chucked bodies, punched bodies,  _marinated_ bodies...

As the second hour of work approached, the bake-house was shaping up to be a hell of a lot emptier. The scattered carcasses no longer obscured the slimy slabs, the only remnants of them were smeared trails of blood coating the stone floor, a steady trickle of the red stuff draining down into the gutters to join the ingenious sewer system.

"This place is lookin' loads better now, ain't it?" Eleanor chirped, finally breaking the hour-long silence... it had been torture for the poor woman, the other two weren't exactly  _social butterflies_ like her. "Can't believe 'ow fast we've cleaned up tonight! Used ta take me the 'ole night!"

Eva wore a small smile on her chapped lips, crouched over one of the few remaining corpses - which was splayed out, the skin grey from the formaldehyde she'd been peppering it with.

Mrs Lovett was certainly thankful that less of the meat was going to decay and become wasteful now that the undertaker found a useful way of preserving it for another few days. Beforehand, the poor baker hadn't had the time, never mind the  _stamina_ to keep up with Mr Todd's death toll, but now, she could relax and plan ahead a lot more.

 _"I need to leave."_ Sweeney blurted out carelessly, before the two of them had chance to chat to each other properly.

The two women paused, dropping their contentment as they turned their gazes on him. He could practically  _feel_ their irritation as they observed him.

He was stood in the middle of the place... his black hair knotted upwards like he'd been tugging at it, his eyes even more sunken with fatigue. Burgundy patches stained his shirt-sleeves from where blood had spurted out from the wounds of carcasses. His neckties were loose, as was his waistcoat - it only added to his dishevelled demeanour... if Eleanor hadn't been so shocked by his words, or perhaps if Miss Fiori hadn't been there, the baker would have  _jumped_ him there and then...

He looked dangerously  _deranged._

Their hostile, prying stares made him want to roll his bloodshot eyes, but he resisted, knowing that he'd only stir up another fuss with Miss Fiori. Or so he thought.

"Anthony's expectin' me to aid 'im. I told 'im that he was more than welcome to see me once the clock struck eleven. It's easily passed that now, I ought to get goin' to see if 'e's waitin' upstairs." he finally added emptily, staring at Eleanor, who was bent down, scrubbing away at a few blood stains that had sunk into one of the slabs. She was burning her eyes into him - he could already see the simmering rejection in her brown pools.

"That may be rather miraculous." Eva chipped in with a deadpan tone, straightening herself to stand up and fish out a cloth from her pocket to dry her hands. "I've never seen a corpse rise from the dead before, and that's saying something, given my line of work."

Mrs Lovett gasped, snapping her head up to stare at the young woman in alarm, her pace of scrubbing increasing significantly.

Mr Todd snarled, tearing his attention away from his accomplice to settle on the undertaker - he was  _seething,_ and even more so now that she gave him a smug smirk as she continued to dust her hands of formaldehyde and blood.

"Wot the  _hell_ are you playin' at,  _girl?!_ This is no laughin' matter, a young girl's  _life_ is at  _stake,_ do you understand?" he near yelled, glowering at her as his hands balled into fists. "Given wot you've told us before, the Judge is indeed a  _sick man._ Only further evidence that 'is residence is no place for a vulnerable young woman like Johanna. Anthony Hope is the only one who we can use to give her a shot at escapin'. Do not  _joke_ about his demise."

Eleanor continued to scrub vigorously, her mouth agape as her wide eyes settled on him - her heart was pounding with dread... why was Mr T revealing so much? Was this something the girl had intended to find out? Or perhaps she already knew and had wanted to get a rise out of him?

Before Mrs Lovett had time to clear her throat and calm the man down, Eva Fiori spoke again...

"Like I said before, Mr Todd, I don't see how a  _dead_ man can help you both.  _Pray tell,_ enlighten me on what's so fantastic about him, and how on Earth you think he can help her." she stated casually, grey eyes sparked with interest - she appeared even more dodgy with the brim of her hat shading her brow now that she was lit up by the light of the oven.

"You're an  _abomination."_ he spat, narrowing his eyes at her as she neatly folded her now bloodied handkerchief, slipping it into her waistcoat pocket. "Do not speak of the lad in such a way. I would not be here if it were not for him."

"He saved a  _murderer's_ life." she replied honestly, slowly approaching him without any concern whatsoever. "That doesn't make him a good person, Mr Todd. Perhaps he wished to take advantage of your loyalty. And to set this straight, I am not lying about him being deceased. He's well and truly left this world."

"Did'ja kill 'im?!" Eleanor interjected in a gasp, pushing herself up from the floor with her palms - she had no such luck by herself, and strangely, Sweeney caught notice and pushed by Eva, heading over to support his accomplice.

"I... "

The girl trailed off, too taken-aback by the scene happening before her to carry on for the moment.

Sweeney took hold of Eleanor's forearms, leading her upwards so that she could hook her arms around his neck. He lifted her upwards, his gaze down low... like he was avoiding her eyes for some reason. The heels of her boots came into contact with the ground, and she winced with worried adoration, leaning into his chest so that she could embrace him.

Eva frowned at them, blinking a few times... then she rubbed her eyes, black soot coating the sides of her hands. She was slightly bewildered... then again, she wouldn't have put it past them to make it a front to shield their whispers... whispers that contained plans on how to kill her, for example.

Deciding that it was possible that their bloody embrace  _was_ in fact a mask, she carried on.

"I intended to get rid of Mr Hope, yes. But the fates claimed him of their own accord, long before I could do anything. He practically tied his own noose."

Sweeney instinctively wrapped his arms around Eleanor, who was now nestling her face in his shirt, hiding how much she truly didn't care for the sailor. Secretly, the knowledge of the lad's death was music to her ears... she knew that Mr Todd would have been able to read her emptiness if he'd stared into her eyes, so it was the nicest opportunity to hide that from him.

She breathed in his scent deeply when she felt his chin rest on top of her head of copper-red hair. She could sense that all of his tension had oddly left him... she was confused why he suddenly appeared to believe the girl. Sweeney wasn't exactly  _gullible..._

Well, he always was when it came to trusting Mrs Lovett. But she was an exception.

_And she damn well knew it._

Sweeney bored his eyes into Eva, black irises as hard as nails, unrelenting and unforgiving. He  _despised_ her, he truly  _did,_ but he just knew in the back of his mind, that she was probably telling the truth. He couldn't see why she'd need to lie about it.

She'd admitted she'd wanted to kill Mr Hope, and that was one hell of a thing to admit.

So yes, he trusted her.

But he was incredibly infuriated with her. He had no room in his heart, or conscience to grieve for the young sailor... he'd lost so much already that he was numb to such sadness and disappointment.

However, considering he'd embraced his accomplice without a single thought... the lad's passing may have been quite a nasty shock to him. Then again, perhaps he'd just wanted to hold Eleanor Lovett close to him again... and Anthony's alleged death was just some excuse for his mind to make sense of things.

With Eleanor still hugging and snuggling into him, he felt a sudden surge of rage within his body, and he felt it raising out from his voice-box to barge out through his mouth. He parted his lips, about to spout off a warning towards the undertaker... he'd make a threat, one that warned her never to mess up his plans ever again. And one that made it perfectly clear not to kill any person he regarded to be  _useful._

"Are you two officially... an item, then?" Eva interrupted in an interested tone, taking off her hat for a moment to scratch at her scalp which was concealed by her near-crimson hair.

Sweeney scowled at her, still resting his chin on Eleanor's head. He glared at her, trying to comprehend the girl's thought pattern. Her thinking was all over the place... she'd strangely  _materialised_  that night, had acted silently  _suspicious_  all evening and had just revealed that one of his associates had just  _died..._

_Only to question the barber and the baker's relationship status._

He could feel Eleanor burying her face deeper into him, and he wore a confused expression as he felt her nose brushing against his collarbone. He realised she wished to lift her head, and now thoroughly speechless with awe, he took his chin from her. She tilted her head so that she could look up to him, her brown eyes instantly gaining his attention.

She looked so  _desperately_ optimistic, her bottom lip wobbling with anticipation.

She was expecting him to answer the girl.

 _"We're not..."_ he began to reply, feeling the words spilling out of him before he had chance to filter them. Eleanor winced at his choice of words, her eyes already filling up with rejected tears.

Eva placed her hat back on, studying the way the barber stared at his baker. What was he holding back? What was he  _waiting_ for? She could see how much he cared for the woman, just from the way he was acting. He was internally strangling his own throat to stop himself from talking, it seemed.

 _"We're not how we used to be."_ he finally choked out, hypnotised by the glee dancing in Eleanor Lovett's eyes as she inhaled sharply...

"What is it that's stopping you, Mr Todd? You two could quit now, while you're still ahea - "

Eva cut herself off, eyebrows knitting together when she saw Sweeney's face change. He looked like a tortured soul as he gazed back, into the hopeful eyes of his accomplice -  _Eva understood completely._ He had to carry out a promise, carry out  _a_   _vow_  before he could finally lose himself in his own dreams...  _desires._

She felt her own heart breaking as she watched the two of them. She felt like a ridiculous idiot for inquiring about what they were to one another now. She was usually tough as nails, but those two got to her.

"You ought to hurry up and get him, you know." she finally spoke, managing to attract his attention again.

When their eyes met, it was clear what the undertaker was inferring... he knew then, what she was truly asking of him.

He looked so ghost-like as he glumly nodded in agreement, not daring to speak a word or he'd alert the giddy baker, who was still beaming a grin up at him. He was apprehensive about accepting Miss Fiori's silent offer... but what choice did he have?

When Eva nodded back, he returned to the sight of his baker, who was peering up at him in wondrous astonishment.

In that moment, staring down into Eleanor's eyes, he realised something.

Something that he  _yearned_ for.

Yet he could not have it.

Not now.

Not until the Judge was finally dead.


	32. The Oversight

There was something comical about Eleanor Lovett sneaking downstairs from Mr Todd's tonsorial parlour, avoiding her nosy customers' gazes - she was well and truly  _flushed_ as she over-cautiously stepped down each stair, holding the banister as she attempted to mask her heavy breaths of fatigue.

Something had been slightly different about Mr Todd that night, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was exactly.

Although, she had realised he was growing more insistent where their intimacy was concerned... it was rare that he'd go a night without at least lying next to her in her bed - yet every time she tried to communicate verbally about their affair, his answers (or often, his  _silence)_ conflicted with his actions.

It was no wonder the woman was still so confused, given that  _he_ was to begin with.

Eleanor had almost reached the bottom of the stairs, attempting to steady out her breathing as she skimmed her eyes over the rowdy crowd of gobblers, a small yet sinister smile touching upon her lips.

Even the dynamic of her customers tonight had shifted - they seemed louder and brasher, the majority of them had even bought a second - perhaps even a  _third_ \- pie to feed their nauseating appetites. Eleanor had been excellent at holding back her shock of course... but internally she did wonder why everyone had suddenly grown to be  _greedier..._

 _'Well... long as they's payin' there's no concerns to be 'ad.'_ she told herself, stepping onto the terrain of her courtyard and adorning a supposedly warm smile.

She still had pink blush over her cheeks and her lips were a glorious shade of red, not to mention, one side of her dress was higher up than the other. She wouldn't have been surprised if someone had put two and two together seeing as she'd just left Mr Todd's shop... but quite frankly,  _she didn't care._

Confidently wandering through the maze of packed tables, she briefly glanced over to the bench in the corner - now known to be Miss Fiori's usual table.

Toby Ragg was sat there alone, looking rather fed up with his chin resting upon his open palm - his other hand's fingers lightly drummed the table, his focus on the busy sight of Fleet Street... though it was clear that he was caught up in his own thoughts.

Mrs Lovett couldn't help noticing how sullen the lad looked, especially since he'd usually be so  _sprightly._ Now having a burning need to cheer the boy up, she bustled over to him, adjusting her sleeves so that they sat in a more symmetrical fashion - she also did this because she didn't want the lad conjuring up any ideas about her and Mr T... partly since she knew how much the boy despised her beloved barber.

"Wot brings you 'ere, lad?" she asked, and he sat up straight at the sound of her airy voice, ears pricked up with interest. "Y'never usually 'ere on ya lonesome, 'specially wi' that great sulk on ya face."

"Thought I'd save the table - for Miss Fiori, I mean." he replied, not turning around to face her. "Ya wouldn't've 'appened to 'ave seen 'er, would ya?"

Mrs Lovett rounded the corner of the table in order to address him properly. She placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head and huffing out with exasperation.

" 'Fraid not, dear. 'M not expectin' 'er tonight, so you best not get'yer 'opes up." she told him quietly, bending forwards so that she could rest a hand on one of his shoulders.

He sighed, still not lifting his head up to face her.

"You're still gonna wait for 'er, aren't ya?" she chirped, a slight chuckle cutting into her words - she admired the lad's insistent optimism.

When the lad nodded glumly, she beamed a genuine smile at him... not that Toby would have been able to see such a comforting thing.

"I don't know... Wot  _are_ you like Tobias Ragg?!" she exclaimed, raising the hand on his shoulder to ruffle his hair instead. "I ain't gonna be able to change ya mind, am I? Stubborn boy, as always. Bet you're starvin'! Ya gonna need somethin' down that neck'a yours 'cause ya could well be waitin' 'ere until closin' time."

Toby raised his head slightly and she lifted her hand away from him, his hazel eyes filled with gratitude even though the baker hadn't even told him of her offer yet.

" 'Ow's bout I get ya a nice-lovely juicy pie, eh?" she whispered, holding a cupped hand to the side of her mouth like she was whispering about some childish secret.

The lad's eyes lit up and he nodded, giving her a small smile. A smile that she couldn't help returning, his innocent happiness was contagious.

"Oh  _yes_ please!" he replied excitedly, eyebrows raising - it was an expression of his she'd come to know rather well, one where he'd already thanked her without him realising. "An'... if it's no trouble, ma'am... could I 'ave another in case Miss Fiori arrives?"

Eleanor's warm demeanour dropped and she wore a worried expression, freezing her movements whilst her brain fought for words. The baker knew that Miss Fiori would be a little  _less_ than  _happy_ if she did indeed turn up, sitting down to find a steaming meat pie waiting for  _her._

Given the contents of the crust, not to mention, how  _public_ the setting was...

Eleanor wouldn't be surprised if the girl would take it as a direct  _insult._

"Oh... well, I dunno 'bout that. It's very kind'a ya t'be thinkin' like that, but ya don't know if she's gonna show up, love. Don't wanna go wastin' a pie if she's not gonna show now, do ya?"

He shrugged and dropped his gaze again, "Never mind. Was just a thought."

Eleanor sighed in defeat, the sight of the lad's disappointment had been too much for her to refuse him.

"Oh,  _go on_ then. I'll getcha another pie for 'er." she said highly, rolling her eyes as he beamed a cheeky grin at her. "But don't you blame me if someone's grubby 'ands nab it off the table now, will ya?"

"I'll guard it wi' me life." he pledged quietly, drawing an invisible cross over his heart with his index finger.

She chuckled lightly, her eyes lighting up with fondness for his childish antics.

"I'll be back in two-shakes." she whispered out in a hushed breath, like her return was to be some kind of mystery. She gave him a wink as she left his sight.

He smiled broadly to himself as she trundled off to get a couple of plates, and naturally, a couple of shot glasses.

It wasn't long before she returned, carrying almost everything as promised. She carefully placed each empty plate down on the table before him, and then the tumblers followed. He still appeared to be down in the dumps, yet he managed a grateful smile once she began to tip up the gin bottle (something she'd managed to tuck beneath her arm).

The lad silently watched her fill both glasses up, fascinated with how the drink was so clear and serene in appearance.

"Wot's got ya so 'opeful to see 'er then?" Mrs Lovett asked inquisitively, tilting her head to the side when she set the bottle down on the table's surface for the time being.

" 'Aven't seen 'er all day." he stated sadly, raising his gaze which unintentionally tugged on her heartstrings - she was a sucker for the lad's honest eyes, they broke her poor heart. "Best chance'a seein' 'er is 'ere. Even if I'd found 'er sooner she wouldn't've wanted me 'ere. So best I'm 'ere now so she's got no choice."

Eleanor gave him an equally sad smile, opening her mouth to reply to him - but she saw a few of her customers growing restless with hunger in her peripheral vision. She thought she'd better get a move on and serve them before one of them started to get nasty ideas.

"Got some customers to see to, dear." she quickly said, dusting off the front of her dress before snatching up the gin bottle. "An' I'd better get them pies for ya too. Promise I'll be right back, 'm awful busy t'night - "

He smiled, nodding in understanding and held out his palm, adorning the money he owed her for everything.

Eleanor stopped in her tracks, her hands tightening their grip around the glass bottle. Her brown eyes gleamed with a thin sheet of happy tears... she didn't know why his gesture of payment moved her internally. She just... hadn't expected such kindness from a child, especially from Toby Ragg. She still felt like she'd let the lad down, she didn't feel like she was deserving of his sweetness.

"Put that away now, lad." she ordered sternly with a sniff, attempting to mask her emotions by blinking away her tears. "No need to be payin' fer anythin'. By the time I come back I don't wanna so much as lay me eyes on a  _farthin',_ alright?"

Toby was stunned yet nodded sheepishly, knowing he'd missed his chance to dispute with her because she'd already rushed off again.

Eleanor swallowed back the lump in her throat as she burst through the courtyard door, breathing out an enormous sigh of relief once she'd made it to the inside of her shop.

"That bleedin' boy always gets t'me." she murmured, wandering over to her counter, where she carefully placed the bottle. She thanked herself internally when she saw a fresh tray of pies on the surface of the floury worktop - she was so overcome with emotion that she was starting to feel fatigued, at least, more so than usual. She was in no mood to face the contents of the bake-house again tonight.

When her hands curled around each side of the tray securely, she hoisted it upwards, holding it against her stomach. She puffed out a deep breath, the air pushing one of her stray auburn locks upwards to land somewhere else where it wouldn't obscure her view.

A disgruntled decrease in chatter came from outside, causing her to frown deeply. Naturally, a slight hush rarely ever happened on her premises... so immediately, it was no wonder that she wished to know what was going on.

Eleanor rushed across her shopfloor and peeped through her windows, holding the precarious tray of pies firmly in her hands. Her eyes set upon the scene of Miss Fiori arriving and traipsing through the already-staring rows of consumers. Her gaze followed the undertaker closely and curiosity took her over - the girl stormed towards her habitual table with a fierce-some expression on her face.

From body language alone, it was clear that the girl wasn't in her best of moods,  _apparently._

Just as Eleanor sharply inhaled and took a step closer towards the door, now eager to dish out some pies, more movement from the cobbles of Fleet Street caused her to hinder her actions.

She audibly gasped, eyes like saucers when none other than the  _honourable_ Beadle Bamford sauntered through the first few rows of tables, soon shuffling onto the end of one particular bench... a bench that supported the behinds of many shady-looking men. There was no surprise that the insufferable man surrounded himself with such a dodgy lot.

Eleanor didn't know how to feel.

At first, she was filled with dread... mostly because she was aware that Mr Todd could have spotted the sickening man sat amongst the rabble - and she was concerned whether he'd be able to hold his temper. Given how intense he'd been towards her as he'd violently taken her earlier... she was skeptical about him being able to control his murderous intentions on this night - even if he was in amongst the  _public._

To know that Eva Fiori was also just a few tables away from Bamford, made her tremble with nervousness. The girl was definitely capable of more things than the baker probably realised - she'd only recently become aware that she could trust Eva, but that didn't mean that the girl wasn't a loose cannon.

As the chatter of her customers burbled up in volume again, laughter rang out from the direction of the detestable man. Laughter which reminded her of the  _Judge's party_ , laughter which then reminded her of the Judge's _true intentions._

_Intentions that Beadle Bamford would have been well aware of._

She swallowed back the urge to gag, attempting to banish her expression of utter disgust.

She had  _three_ people to keep an eye on. She knew she could handle multi-tasking, but this was bordering on ridiculous. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath and put up her cheery front, confidently marching through the side-door to bravely face the raucous courtyard.

Eleanor calculated every footstep as she approached Miss Fiori's table, careful not to attract anyone's attention - she didn't want either Eva or Bamford letting on that the other was there.

As for Sweeney, however, it seemed that he was going to be tonight's big fat  _question mark._

She just hoped he was busy slitting someone's throat... or perhaps he'd tired himself out from their elusive tryst earlier. She wouldn't have been surprised if it truly was the latter.

Before long, she'd reached the table.

Eva was sat directly next to Toby, their backs were to her but she could tell from the way the girl was sat so stiffly that Toby's company wasn't something she was comfortable with.

"- c'mon! I don' like that I've never seen ya eat! You's could be starvin' fer all I know." the boy exclaimed in a shrill tone, concern so obviously clinging to every one of his vowels. "If ya don't eat now then I'm gonna 'ave t'force it down ya throat!"

Eleanor felt out of place as she swerved around them both to approach the opposite side of their table. She rested the tray of pies on the vacant bench, her gaze raising to acknowledge Eva's already accusing glare... it was an emotion that was ever so familiar.

_Those eyes said it all._

Yet so did Eleanor's... her chocolate orbs were firm and cold, and it was obvious that there was an unspoken tension building between the two women.

Like poor Eleanor Lovett needed to add  _another_ problem to her precarious pile of worries.

Without a word, she picked up two pies from the tray. They were still slightly warm, and she beamed Eva a wicked smile, dropping each one onto the plates set out on the table. Toby's rambling was like background noise as the two women exchanged dagger-like stares, silently arguing.

The undertaker was insistent that the boy was  _not_ to be encouraged. Especially where  _human pies_ were concerned.

Whereas, the baker insisted that Toby deserved to be at ease. There was no harm in Miss Fiori attempting to play along to settle the young lad's worries.

"Do enjoy ya pies, dears. Eat 'em while they're still 'ot, that's when they're at they're finest." Eleanor suddenly butted in, and Toby had instantly quietened down to smile at the first sound of her voice. Yet her devious eyes were pinned on Eva, her own smile small and rather cold.

The undertaker let out a huff and shook her head, gobsmacked as the baker left just as fast as she arrived, lifting up the tray of pies like it weighed nothing at all.

Even more irritated now, Eva narrowed her eyes and swivelled so that she faced the young lad, who had already picked up his pie and had taken a hefty bite out of it.

She glared at him, concealing her urge to gawp in astonishment. She wasn't sure what to say to the lad, or sure what to think of  _Mrs Lovett_ now, for that matter. The baker always seemed to  _gush_ over children, so it was odd that she was content giving the lad her atrocious meat pies...

Eva shuddered as she tore away from the sight of Toby gorging himself and instead, glanced down at her own pie. She was keeping her head up and as far away from the food as possible... though no disgust was present in her eyes. She appeared almost  _entranced_ by the hot pie, but it wasn't clear what the reasons behind such an expression were.

"Gwo onw." Toby murmured as he chewed through some of the thick pastry, hurriedly gulping it down so he could speak more comprehensively. "Tuck in."

"I'm perfectly  _fine,_ thank you." she snapped, her breathing heavier as she tore her demented eyes from the pie. "I'm not hungry so there's no need to worry, you know."

Toby wasn't having any of it and slung what was left of his food down onto his plate. He then snatched up her pie from in front of her, reaching over to stuff it into one of her jacket pockets.

"At least save it f'later, then. That way I knows you's got summin' to eat."

She sadly frowned at him, his childish concern making her recall Bernadette's tears from the few days before.

She couldn't bear to tell him.

She'd keep the little girl's passing away from him, even if she had to move hell and Earth. When she'd found that poor girl's body lying in the gutter, she couldn't help feeling partly responsible.

It was no wonder she was visibly irked today. Her stubborn personality shone terribly, then again, that was just her way of dealing with unspoken grief.

Before long, she realised she'd probably zoned out for a few minutes because Toby had nearly finished his pie, playfully swinging his legs to-and-fro beneath the table.

The setting was definitely getting to her - which was understandable, given that Bernadette had only been sat there with them a few days prior. Eva closed her eyes briefly, allowing her back to relax into a hunch. Now that she focused her hearing, she could hear every minor sound - from playing cards snapping down onto a table from the other side of the yard, to the faint tinkle of coins exchanging hands.

_And that's when she heard it._

The vainglorious  _cackle_ that she'd come to hate so much.

Her eyes flew open and suddenly everything seemed like it was in two-speed, the lines of everything she looked at dissolving into blurred edges.

"M-Miss Fiori?" Toby asked in a small voice, slowing his munches when he saw a fairly intimidating expression on her face.

She suddenly darted her eyes down to settle on her jacket pocket, but reluctantly, she brought her gaze away, blinking away her warped thoughts.

Ignoring the panicked voice of the young lad next to her, she nonchalantly turned her neck behind her, her body delayed in following the direction of her head. She kept her head down and looked up through her cold grey eyes at the crowd before her. She was searching for the source of that sickening laugh, it was one so thick with smug  _fraud_ that there wasn't another like it.

She soon spotted Beadle Bamford's mucky green gaze. She gritted her teeth as his skull rotated around on a pivot, all in order to face her. It was like the toad had sensed her icy glare, even from the other side of the courtyard.

Eva's entire being tensed up.

Even more so when the man gave her a smarmy smirk, and a nod... like that was his pathetic greeting towards her.

His actions caused her blood to sky-rocket, she absolutely  _loathed_ him. She wondered why he wouldn't stop leering at her...

And that's when she realised.

_"I saw a Scout takin' 'er a fair way down the Strand! She were kickin' an' screamin'!"_

Bernadette's voice echoed in her ears...

She'd spoken of a scout, a watchman... a  _beadle._

Miss Fiori was unsure whether Beadle Bamford's claws of power reached as far as the Strand, but there was a huge chance they did. The man was  _definitely_ in on that poor girl's blatant slaughter.

She held her tongue, truly wishing to yell out in frustration.

The tyrant was still staring at her - daring her to approach him, daring her to move a muscle. He was quite successfully winding her up.

Before she could stop herself, her nerves tensed and she stood up stiffly, slamming her flat palms either side of the plate on the table. Toby widened his eyes, watching the eruption of pastry flakes fly into the air.

Once she swiftly stepped across the bench, clearly headed towards her enemy, Bamford lowered his eyes, focused on his hands cupping around his warm pie.

As he sunk his teeth into the crust, and consequently, into the fleshy meat, he raised his gaze again. The undertaker had gotten significantly closer, pushing by jovial customers as she continued to approach him. Her eyes were hooded with rage and appeared to be sunken shadows beneath the shade of her hat - they were obscured and soul-less.

Quite a few heads started to turn, and even Mrs Lovett eyed the two enemies worriedly when Eva reached her destination.

Beadle Bamford's lips smacked as he chewed overly loudly, his shudder-inducing eyes not even acknowledging her presence.

She stood to his side, eyes alight with rage, disbelief...  _heartbreak._ Heartbreak for that deceased girl she'd lifted from an infested duct not a few hours before. The oily black seemed to sink into the skin around her eyes even more now that she was angered, only increasing her aggressive gloom.

After standing there for a good ten seconds, she'd had enough of waiting. She decided she had to  _act._

Her right arm flinched out before his eyes, her hands snatching the pie from out of his gloved fingers. He sucked in a shocked gasp when she tossed it across the table, almost hitting one of the man's so-called  _friends._

He leaned forwards, subtly reaching a hand down to quickly grip onto his cane...

But he wasn't fast enough.

The undertaker used her hand closest to his face to smack him right between the eyes. He whimpered out and squeezed his eyes shut at the shattering pain, cupping his nose with his leathery hands.

He felt his cane slip out from the side of him, and he winced when he heard the sound of wood snapping... the clatter afterwards only confirmed that his beloved sword-cane was no more.

"A  _child?_ How  _could_ you?! You are hardly deserving to be know as a well-respected man, let alone a  _human being."_ Eva scorched, oblivious to the ominous silence her rage-filled outbreak had caused. All eyes were on them now, and Mrs Lovett was hesitant to intrude... she was at a loss in terms of what to do.

She'd have to remove one of them from her premises, or else there would be a surge in suspicious customers. And they'd already gotten rid of a couple in the last few days.

"Come now, you wouldn't have wanted that to happen to a fully grown adult now, would you?" Beadle Bamford murmured as he glanced at the approaching baker. He then carelessly drifted his murky eyes over to challenge the young girl's stare instead.

Mrs Lovett didn't quite arrive in time to hear what the man said, but she slammed the tray of pies onto the table. Already, it was obvious she was more than a little upset.

"I'm 'fraid one'a you's is gonna 'ave to leave. This ain't no place fer fightin'." she spoke loudly, her tone alone was enough to show that she wasn't taking any funny business.

Beadle Bamford moaned out pathetically, like he was in immense pain. He took his hands away from his face - the skin had cracked in an angry red line over the bridge of his nose and blood trickled from both of his nostrils. The girl had known how to give him a well-deserved whack.

"Well  _I'm_  in no state to move along, ma'am'." he said in an innocent tone, each of his consonants muffled from the state of his nose. "I can hardly  _see."_

"Well I'm certainly not leaving." Eva breathed in a dangerous whisper, bending down to seize him by the scruff of his neck. "Not until you've decided to admit that you're an avid killer of children."

Eleanor's eyes widened at the girl's words but she was too distraught about realising what was about to occur... she hurriedly wrapped her arms around Eva. She trapped the girl's forearms and torso in a tight embrace as she stepped back, pulling backwards.

Eva fought against Eleanor's strong barrier of arms as she was being dragged away, heading in the direction of the cobbles of Fleet Street. The young girl's breathing accelerated as she watched the smirking face of Beadle Bamford fade further and further into the crowd of customers.

The little frame on Mrs Lovett was deceiving, because she managed to hold the girl back rather well. Then again, perhaps the girl had truly given up as soon as the baker's arms latched around her. That didn't stop the girl from struggling, however.

It wasn't long until the baker had led the two of them to stop in front of her shop, away from the prying eyes of her customers.

The girl was scowling at the pavement, too ashamed to face the woman she admired with all her heart. Not two seconds after getting there, Eva lightly patted Mrs Lovett's hands to finally display to her that she'd finally surrendered.

Eleanor released Eva from her arms, giving the girl a hard shove like she was discarding her completely. After this, the undertaker lifted her head.

They stood on the curb-edge, searching each others eyes. They were shocked at each other's actions.

The customers would certainly be whispering about what had happened for days to come. Perhaps even  _months._

"Wot the  _'ell_ do ya think you're doin'?" Mrs Lovett cried out, each of her hands attaching to one of her hips, one by one. "I can't 'ave you comin' round 'ere like 'is! I don't care  _wot_ excuse ya 'ave, missy! You aren't t'come back 'ere, you've put  _so much_ at risk - me and Mr T, the business,  _the young lad..."_

Eva frowned like she was confused, tears welling up in her eyes as she studied the path beneath her feet.

"You've put everythin' in danger, all in the space'a one night." Eleanor said calmly in a sad tone, outstretching a hand to rest it on one of the girl's shoulders. "I don't know 'ow I'm menna trust ya now. An'... f'that reason alone, I... can't 'ave you 'elpin' us anymore, love."

Her eyebrows knitted upwards as the girl winced with distress, grey tears trickling down her sore cheeks.

Eva nodded, "I-I'm a liability. I know. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused tonight. I can't have the two of you at risk... I've been unforgivably  _stupid._ I won't bother you again."

Eleanor let go of her, her frown gracing her brow as she watched Eva slowly walk away, head faced down towards the cobbles. She recognised the girl's emotion... she'd seen something like that in someone else before, but she couldn't quite piece it together.

Perhaps it was like she was looking at herself. Or perhaps that wasn't it at all.

She hated having to let the girl go.

But what other choice did she have?


	33. The Perils of Approaching Eleanor Lovett

That night, it seemed to be  _never-ending_. Eleanor almost jumped for joy once the last few customers trickled out of her courtyard.

She knew her fatigue had only increased due to how horrible she felt after dismissing Miss Fiori. As she absent-mindedly stacked up soiled plates and tumblers, she thought back to how the girl had owned up to her stupid mistake. She hadn't tried to deny anything, nor had she tried to dispute with Eleanor.

And from that alone, the baker now considered her to be a decent person.

In all honesty, she too wanted Beadle Bamford dead, especially after hearing the chilling allegations of murder leaving Eva's mouth...

She shivered uncomfortably, grabbing the damp dishcloth she'd placed over her shoulder to begin wiping one of the tables down. Feeling that focusing on the dirty surface as she cleaned it was depressing her even more, she raised her head up and cast her dreamy eyes towards Mr Todd's shop.

She regretted not telling Mr Todd of the events that evening. She hadn't been able to approach him ever since their brief encounter - mainly out of fear for how he'd react. But also because she wanted the memory of the last time she saw him that day to be the feel of his lips against hers as his body trapped her in place against the wall of his shop...

Until he made a new memory when he slipped into bed beside her, of course.

She couldn't help wearing a smile smile as she closed her eyes, her head still faced in the direction of the barber's parlour. Her hand kept on moving over the table in a circular motion, but she was already completely lost in the memory of him.

She recalled when she'd tipped back her head and exposed her neck, which had caused an emphatic growl to come out of him. He'd been pleasantly enthralled by her actions, and she'd heard it plainly within every syllable of his want.

She could even remember the exact noise he'd made - his voice had been low and hoarse with lust and she felt goosebumps developing all the way down her back. She  _longed_ to draw that noise out of him again...

As she opened her eyes again, she bit down into her smile, her blush giving away her desire-filled thoughts. Deciding that she'd spent enough time cleaning that particular table now, she raised her head, casually glancing across her courtyard.

She narrowed her eyes as a figure across the street caught her attention.

The swagger as they left a small nook next to Bell Court passage was enough for her to deduce it was Beadle Bamford. The way he pinched his nose also gave it away - Eva's whack was still affecting him, how  _awful._

Eleanor's eyes widened however, when she followed the direction of his gaze.

Dread filled her as her cloth tumbled out of her palm - the man was watching a few boys playing a game of tag in the street, which was a usual sight to see at that time of night in those parts.

She wouldn't have even given the pig's actions a thought if she hadn't recalled Eva's words... Bamford was being exceedingly suspicious given what had occurred that night - not to mention, downright  _creepy._

Suddenly Eleanor found herself shaking with anger. She wore a stubborn pout on her face and before she knew it, she was marching across the street towards him - the cracks in her pallid mask of indifference were finally starting to show.

 _"Oh!_ Why, if it isn't London's most  _favoured_ baker... and now notable  _hostess,_ might I add."

His daring insinuations had already begun and she hadn't even reached him yet. She was  _fuming_ with him, why did he feel the need to rub everything in? He wasn't exactly the cleanest of people... literally  _and_ figuratively.

Once she'd finally neared him enough so that he would be able to hear her without her having to raise her voice, she finally snapped.

"Wot ya pokin' ya nose round 'ere for now?!" she scorched, folding her arms over to display her anger - although, it was probably also a precaution. "Don't ya think you've caused enough trouble?"

The man sniffed over-dramatically and wagged his finger at her, then motioned for her to come closer.

"I think  _you_ ought to  _think_ about  _your_ words, Mrs Lovett." he said in a sickly tone, taking a step nearer to her when she hadn't obeyed him. "As you and Mr Todd have proven yourselves, not  _all_ rumours end up being true."

Eleanor gawped at him in awe and that was all the man needed. He darted his hand forwards - the glove he wore around it felt rough and coarse as he snatched hold of one of her forearms, forcibly pulling her to follow him.

She started to yell out something obscene, but his other hand clapped over her mouth. She cringed and writhed, making the man's efforts at capturing her look rather docile.

Despite her thrashing and her attempts to knee him somewhere that it would bloody well  _hurt,_ he yanked her into a familiar alleyway -  _the one where a certain councillor had been bumped off by a certain barber._

She squealed against his hand, now trying to elbow him in the ribs. But it was too late.

She cried out in discomfort as she felt rough brickwork scraping against her back. She ceased her screams and his hand fell away - instead, he outstretched both his arms either side of her, trapping her in place.

Eleanor swallowed back the urge to throw up - her disgust for the man had just reached a new level and she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold on without being sick.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the sound of metal being scraped against wood, her hands balling into tense fists. She already felt the coldness of the weapon through the air before it even sliced towards her...

Beadle Bamford held the slender sword's blade across the width of her neck, his bloodshot eyes savouring the sight of her up against the wall. He'd had no intention of ogling her, but being the despicable pig he was, he took the opportunity to do so.

"Thought that cane'a yours were  _broken."_ she mocked spitefully when her eyes flew open, her breaths short from panic - it wasn't Bamford that she was afraid of, it was the jagged-looking blade he was maliciously pressing against her throat.

"Well, a man like me has ways of gaining what he needs, and desires, in a matter of  _minutes,_ Mrs Lovett." he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, but his voice oozed flirtation. Eleanor tried to control her breathing as she gave him a look of utter disgust.

"Minutes?!  _Ha!"_ she exclaimed, leaning into his blade slightly which caused him to nervously ease his hand's pressure on the thin sword. "Mr T gets what 'e desires within  _seconds,_ so there's no need t'be braggin' 'bout  _anythin'_ Mister!"

Bamford gave her a quizzical look, slightly confused why the woman was bringing up her tenant at such a time. She should have been terrified, begging him not to hurt her...

Yet it was so obvious that she was silently laughing at him, her chestnut eyes were swimming with amused contempt.

"What does Mr Todd have to do with anything?"

She stayed quiet and closed her eyes, no longer wanting to look upon the repulsive man. She was still fairly on edge, but she knew that if she was pushed, she would have to defend herself and make a run for it when the time was right.

She felt him leaning closer to her, the blade slicing into her skin slightly - she could already feel the warm blood dripping out from the small incision. The pain stung like hell and she clenched her teeth, refraining herself from letting out a single whimper. In her mind, she knew that Beadle Bamford was the kind of person who would claim every slither of a reaction as some kind of  _trophy_. She wouldn't let herself grow weak - she'd  _never_ allow him to have the upper hand.

"Has Mr Todd ever told you what a handsome woman you are?" he coaxed in a slanderous-tone of voice. "I cannot  _wait_ to cut you up into skinny little pieces just to preserve such  _beauty."_

Eleanor scowled and her eyes flashed open.

"Oh well that's gonna take you a fair bleedin' while with  _that_ blade,  _dear._ Trust me." she shot back, her expression deadpan as she rolled her eyes and focused on the brickwork on the opposite side of the passageway - she needed to look at  _anything_ so long as it wasn't the man threatening her.

At the sound of Eleanor's retort, a familiar shadow emerged from the rooftops. It was eerily similar to a scene that had happened before... but far from identical if such scenes were juxtaposed.

It didn't take the person long to figure out what was occurring.

Grey eyes widened, rage already evident in them.

A black-stained hand shakily reached down into a jacket-pocket, seizing hold of something.

 _It was an emergency_ , they insisted to themselves.  _It was a desperate precaution that they had to undertake in order to keep Eleanor Lovett safe..._

A  _crunch_ only confirmed their choice, and one bite of the pastry was all it had taken...

The figure's eyes darted about, calculating every inch of their surroundings in a frenzied manner. Their gaze was one of a hunter's and their hands tensed into claws - the flaky pastry fell from their grasp, landing on one of the roof tiles.

As the baker continued to cheekily meet each of Bamford's attempts at intimidation with a snarky comment, the agile figure crouch jumped from the roof's ledge, their breathing merging with quiet growls.

The figure then propelled themselves across to the other wall of the alley, gripping onto a convenient gable before they quickly lowered themselves downwards.

It wasn't long until their boots touched upon the slippery ground, their eyes glinting through the shadows at the panicked baker - she didn't know  _what_ to think, but suddenly she felt a huge wave of relief move through her whole being.

Eva's breaths were harsh and sounded like they were restricted as she tackled the detestable man, unleashing a torrent of strong blows to the back of Bamford's ribs. He let out a constricted  _"Gah!"_ as he toppled over to the side, the small cane he'd held clattered onto the cobbles below.

Eleanor watched in horror as Eva crouched down, swiftly taking hold of the weapon into one of her clenched palms. She noticed that the girl was quietly snarling, her grey eyes briefly sending a warning glance towards her before returning to her prey.

"Go on then,  _Miss Fiori."_ Bamford pushed out with great effort, his pathetic puffs giving away just how weak he truly was _. "Kill me._ Kill me and let the hounds hunt you down. They'll find you, they always do with scum like you."

She took a step closer to him, studying his sad-excuse of a being - he was face down, only just holding himself up with his leathery palms so that he hadn't quite hit the ground.

Her silence was unsettling to both people in her company - though Eleanor's heart was racing with such relief that she couldn't hold back the tears within her eyes anymore.

The baker had been praying for Mr Todd to save her - but someone else had sensed that she was in danger. She was glad that Eva had been in the right place at the right time, or the situation would have been  _ten times_ more complicated.

However, it didn't stop her having her doubts about Eva.

The girl's body language was swift yet authoritative as she brought her boot down onto the back of one of Bamford's bent knees. He howled out in agony and his arms shook as a consequence of the pain. He started to wobble like he was about to topple over yet somehow, he managed to hold himself up.

She then brought down the thin blade she was holding, striking it across the man's back. He gave out a whiny yelp, and began hyperventilating as she knocked off his top hat, which he'd been jauntily wearing on the top of his head.

A whoosh sounded out as the blade approached the bottom of his shoulder-blades this time and his eyes widened.

_"W-Wai - !"_

He cried out as the sharp edge cut through his layers of tailored clothes, reaching through to the skin beneath to leave a glorious slit across the bones of his lower shoulders.

His arms finally quivered and he fell to the ground, his chin colliding with the worn cobbles of the alley - there was so much grime coating the stone floor that it was already rubbing off onto his face.

To Mrs Lovett's surprise, the girl tossed the small sword aside, not caring about where it landed. Eleanor was too scared to move a muscle, but in truth, she wanted to see how the scene played out.

Beadle Bamford whimpered and attempted to push himself up... but his actions were in vain and only seemed to anger Eva even more. She lashed out at him, bearing her teeth as she raised each of her fists into the air. She brought them down in unison, rhythmically pounding each punch to the underside of his abdomen. Each sooty, stained hand was now red raw from doing so, yet not even that seemed to phase the girl.

Eleanor glared at her, amazed at the strength such a small girl could have. She held back a proud smile - if she'd shown such pride and Eva noticed, it was likely the atmosphere would shift between them. And... she didn't really want to intrude on the well-deserved punishment of Beadle Bamford.

The man cowered in terror, defenceless against the young girl as her hits grew more painful. Nevertheless, he attempted to crawl over the cobbles, using his arms to rake himself forwards. Eva paused, her eyes widening at his insolence.

He had the  _nerve_ to try and  _escape?_

She watched him for a few seconds more, her fists still poised out in a fighting stance. He feebly dragged himself in the opposite direction of Fleet Street, towards the darker end of the passageway.

The girl let out the most irritated,  _starved_ growl Eleanor had ever heard... it sounded like a  _demon_ had crawled out of her throat, especially now that she'd started to lunge forwards towards her enemy - who was still clawing himself to his hopeful freedom.

And that's when Mrs Lovett suddenly froze with terror... or perhaps,  _surprise_ at the very most.

The unholy yell of the girl faded away as she reached the man, yanking his head up by a large clump of his straw-like hair. Instead, it was replaced by the sound of ripping flesh, and Bamford's shrill scream screeched down the alley...

Mrs Lovett was quite certain that someone would have heard something by now, but that was the least of her concerns given the sight before her. It took a lot to shock Eleanor, but the way the girl turned around, grey eyes wildly accentuated by the black substance around them...

She had to admit, she was suddenly  _very_ uncomfortable.

Blood clung onto the gaps between Eva's teeth as thick crimson fluid dribbled down her chin - it was clear that she'd taken a chunk out of the man's skin... the way his body trembled frantically with shock only solidified that fact alone. Viscous red pooled around Bamford's head as Eva dropped to floor with a splitting  _thump._

She had, quite literally, torn the man's throat out.

He wasn't quite finished off yet, though. He was still coughing and spluttering, trying to keep breathing... though from the deep bite to his jugular, it was likely her drastic attack had been  _fatal._

Despite the fact her victim was still fighting to survive, Eva wasn't focused on him at all - she was almost reminiscent of a dog with the obedient look on her face, awaiting Eleanor Lovett's orders.

Eleanor finally staggered away from the wall, stunned by what she'd just witnessed.

"W-Wot?" she whispered to herself, instinctively backing towards Fleet Street. "W-Wot 'ave you done to 'im?!"

 _"Hungry."_ Eva expelled loudly, standing up from her crouched position, but not without giving Bamford's head a firm kick for good measure along the way. "And he was going to kill you otherwise. Or he would've... well, I'd rather not think about that, to tell you the truth."

Eleanor stopped dead, eyes wide as the girl stretched out both her arms in front of her, like she was preparing herself for some excersise.

The man was wheezing hysterically now, and it was clear he was on his last legs. Eva rolled her eyes at the sound and Eleanor's eyes lit up in wonder.

"I'm  _sorry..."_ the baker suddenly said, blinking rapidly in hopes she'd just dreamt everything up - it was clearly a lot to take in because she was holding her arm up to the wall to keep herself upright. "But... did I just see you  _bite_ 'im?!"

Eva narrowed her eyes in thought, "Says the woman who's ever-so delicious pies contain the forgotten population of London..."

"But... I don't  _eat 'em,_ do I?!" she gasped out in reply, eyes drawn to Bamford as his breaths suddenly became fewer and fainter. "I do wish 'e'd  _'urry up_  an'  _die_ 'an all!"

Eva rolled her eyes again and swung her leg back - her boot collided with his fractured nose and he finally shut up, those murky eyes glazing over as his soul was finally reaped from him.

"What were you even doing here?" the undertaker asked, shaking her foot to rid her boot of blood droplets. "It was a good job I hadn't left Fleet Street completely or who knows what could have happened to you."

Eleanor's tension and confusion was pushed to the back of her mind as she contemplated the girl's words.

"H-Here?" she asked anxiously, eyes darting around the place like she was suddenly seeing it for the first time. "Dunno, 'e dragged me down 'ere. Only wanted to tell 'im to stop starin' at those kids outside. Gave 'em the poor creeps, 'e did."

Eva nodded, the touch of an admiring smile reaching her mouth.

"You did well to try." she said awkwardly, wiping her jacket's sleeve against the blood on her chin... it only smeared it even more. "You run on home, Mrs Lovett. There's no need for you to be here at this time of night. There's also something I have to do, so... if you don't mind, please leave now."

"W-Wot?"

"Just go home, I'll get rid of his  _grace._ There's an entrance to the sewers not far from the opposite end of here. I'm surprised that you and Mr Todd didn't think to check last time you were down here with a dead body."

Mrs Lovett stood motionless, too wracked with shock to move.

 _"Go!"_ Eva yelled out in frustration, waving her off like she was suddenly irritated with her presence.

The baker jumped out of her skin and instantly scurried off, cutting her way through lines of people to rush herself back to her residence.

It didn't take long for Eva to shift Beadle Bamford's corpse into a curled position. She hadn't the time to transport him via the sewers just yet, so the old sleeping illusion would have to suffice for the time being.

And after that...

She was running.

Running back towards 186 Fleet Street.

She couldn't risk anything implicating Mr Todd in Beadle Bamford's murder now that the loathsome man had finally passed on. Someone was sure to notice a beadle's absence, so there'd likely be a thorough investigation in the near-future.

She couldn't risk the barber's freedom.

And she  _certainly_ couldn't have the baker in danger.

_Not again._

So she ran.

And kept on running, even when a few people she passed by gasped in horror. Their reactions were no surprise, she looked like she was free-running with a one-way ticket out of Bedlam with all the blood spattered over her... not to mention the feral look upon her face.

She only hoped that she wasn't too late.


	34. Hide and Seek

It was like the clouds over London had sensed the morbid tension between the people below, and they turned a disgruntled black, the rain already ruthlessly spilling down to batter anyone unlucky enough to be outside.

Eva skidded to a halt by the bottom of Mr Todd's staircase, her breathing ragged from running - or perhaps from the canivorous urges she was desperately trying to control. When her reddened eyes laid upon the sight of Eleanor Lovett half way up the very stairs she'd just approached, she frowned and roared out a  _"No!"_ to which Eleanor emitted a startled gasp.

Before the baker had time to persuade the girl to calm down, Eva had stomped her way up each stair, lightly growling beneath every puff of air that she pushed out. She balled her hands into fists as she stopped dead to squarely face Eleanor.

 _"Down."_ she instructed shortly in a shuddering bellow - her tone was sinister but her wide eyes looked as if they were sadly pleading for Mrs Lovett to kindly co-operate. "Go down. Stay inside. It's not going to be safe up here."

Eleanor frowned and opened her mouth into a gawp,  _"W-Wot?!_ Wot d'ya mean - ?"

"It doesn't  _matter,_ what I  _mean."_ Eva snapped, clenching her teeth as her body jerked forwards towards her... but she stopped herself - it was like she  _resisting_ something. "Please... I need to speak with Mr Todd...  _alone."_

 _"With wot I've jus' seen ya do?!"_ the baker shrieked, her body tensing defensively as she stuck her chin out towards the girl. "Not bloody  _likely!"_

"Well, I'm not going to  _eat him,_ if that's what you're worried about, Mrs Lovett." Eva quipped, rain droplets dripping from the brim of her hat. "We could stay out here all night, but one of us would surely catch a death of cold."

Eleanor huffed out in surrender, no longer wanting to stand out there in all that rain to argue with the frustrating girl.

 _"Fine."_ she stubbornly replied, narrowing her chocolate eyes as she brushed a sheet of water droplets from her sleeves. "But if I 'ear anythin' untoward then I'll be up 'ere faster than you can say  _chocolate teapot."_

Internally, Eleanor was already praying that Mr Todd wouldn't be there. Or at least, wouldn't be harmed. After all, seeing Eva's gruesome attack earlier, she wasn't sure what side the girl was on anymore.

Now that Eleanor had backed down and retreated down the stairs,  _cautiously_ , so she wasn't to slip over; Eva swivelled around, rushing up the rest of the staircase, eyes focused dead ahead.

As she approached the barber's door, worried thoughts flew around her head - then again, when she'd given in to biting into that infernal pie, she'd had her wits about her to the point of paranoia.

But she wasn't concerned for  _herself._

She was concerned for  _Mr Todd._

Concerned that there was something in that barber shop that connected him to the now  _deceased_ Beadle Bamford. Once she got something irritating in her head, she had to get rid of it at once. So there was no time like the present.

She carefully pushed the door in, slipping through stealthily... which had been completely  _pointless_ because the bell rang out and announced her presence. She gritted her teeth in annoyance, maddening eyes quickly surveying the place for an ominous barber...

To her surprise, the shop was completely vacant, apart from a suspended gas lamp, which was still flickering away to give the room an otherworldly glow. From that, it was clear that Mr Todd had definitely been there recently.

She hurriedly sneaked around, creeping over the floorboards, heading towards the vanity in the corner. Whilst she neared, her ears pricked up as dense, steady thuds sounded out in a consistent rhythm. She froze, casting her gaze to the source of the sound - she could hear it coming from the other side of the farthest wall...

It sounded like someone pacing...  _Mr Todd_ pacing, to be more precise.

She turned her attention away to the neglected vanity again, cautiously sliding open drawers to find any evidence that he may have happened to have acquired without his knowledge.

 _'You could always just_ ask him,  _you know.'_ she thought to herself as she opened another drawer, eyeing a silver box that undoubtedly contained his lethal razors.  _'Somehow I don't think he'd be content with me interferring in his business... let alone content that I'd killed someone that_ he  _wished to get rid of in the first place.'_

Too anxious with her meticulous ransacking, she failed to recognise that the sound of pacing had stopped sometime ago. Instead, Mr Todd had crept into his shop via his bedroom door, excessively angry once he saw the undertaker searching through his possessions.

He didn't say a word as he glided up behind her, black eyes narrowed with pre-emptive warning.

Eva caught sight of a shadow as her eyes skimmed across the shattered mirror in front of her and she quickly spun around.

_This didn't look awfully good for her._

"This isn't what it looks like, Mr Todd." she whispered, shaking her head as he stared down at her, completely motionless with rage.

Sweeney was about to open his mouth to make some clever remark about thieves, until he saw smeared stains of red on her chin. His frown deepened and his anger dissipated into curiosity - perhaps she'd been in some kind of fight? Knowing her track record, the barber wouldn't have been surprised.

And why was she rudely intruding on his territory, by appearing to go through his things? He didn't know her that well, but she hadn't come across as the  _nosy_ type.

Perhaps it had something to do with how erratic she appeared to be - it was obvious that Mr Todd had scared her this time, from the way she sucked in breaths. Or had she already been like that before he'd made his presence known?

"What are you doing here?" he asked calmly, somehow his disinterested tone made the situation even more terrifying.

Before she had the chance to reply, a whistled tune flowed from the direction of the shop's door... it rapidly gained in volume with every wheeze Eva took in.

Both barber and undertaker shared wide eyed stares at the buoyant sound -  _a customer._

Mr Todd froze when he started to hear the tune more clearly... it was so distinctive, so  _uniquely_ part of his nemesis' demeanour that it just  _had_ to be him traipsing the stairs outside.

He was completely stiff as the whistling neared the shop door. He didn't even flinch as the girl in his presence slowly crept out of his view.

At the sound of creaking however, he did turn his attention to her, swivelling around to give her a terrifying expression of warning. What on  _Earth_ did she think she was  _doing?!_ What was she still there for?!

Eva was half way through crouching into the trunk situated behind the door - there was no time for her to leave the barber alone now, let alone explain her presence.

She motioned that she'd be hushed with a finger pressed to her wine-tinted lips before she slammed the lid down over herself. Blood coated the inside - from that she could tell a body had probably been stored in there at some point. Perhaps they'd used it to transport meat before the chute had been built? She really wouldn't have been surprised.

She slid down so that her eyes were level with the small strip of light in between the trunk and the lid. She couldn't see much out of the small gap, so she controlled her breaths and sat back, lying quietly still so that she wouldn't attract any attention.

She heard the shop's bell ring out again and her ears pricked up in interest.

_"I'm ever so sorry for calling in on you this late, Mr Todd. I am aware it is approaching midnight, but I am in dire need of your assistance."_

It was indeed  _the Judge._

"No need for your apologies, sir. I value your custom greatly." Sweeney answered, bowing his head slightly in feigned respect.

"My good friend Beadle Bamford was supposed to meet me outside of your establishment, you would not have happened to have seen him?"

 _"Yes."_ Mr Todd lied gloriously, eyes shining with such flawless honesty. "Yes I have. In fact, he came by for a shave not fifteen-minutes ago. He had to run along, much to his dismay. He seemed hugely apologetic. Mentioned something about returning to meet you here, sometime after the clock strikes twelve."

 _"I see."_ The Judge replied, furrowing his brow in thought - it seemed like the absence of his closest friend was unusual... perhaps even  _unheard_ of. "No doubt the rascal must have seen a pretty young thing as he was waiting about."

 _"No doubt."_ the barber agreed with a nod and a forced grin, his eyes cold and full of false contentment. "As you're here now, perhaps I could entice you into a shave, sir? You'd certainly set an example to your friend if you spent this time pampering yourself."

A sly smile smeared over his enemy's mouth... apparently his persuasive lies had paid off.

"An  _excellent_ idea, my friend!"

The barber made no hesitation in commencing his nemesis' future demise and urged him to sit down, taking swift strides over to his vanity. He made no effort to hide his hurried pace when collecting his equipment, rudely turning his back on his unaware victim.

The Judge gave him a quizzical look, standing by the barber chair.

"In a rush, Mr Todd?" he asked with a curious frown, tilting his body towards the direction of the door.

"The faster,  _the better."_ Sweeney muttered, mixing up a small pot of lather.

_"What was that?"_

"Nothin', sir." he said calmly, dropping the bowl in his hands on the vanity for the time being as he swiftly spun around to face the man. "Let us  _proceed."_

The usual routine of shaving preparation seemed to go by in a blur for Sweeney. One minute he'd been stood by the vanity, the next, he was leaning down over his enemy, smearing lather on his cheeks.

He blinked as he stood up straight, internally wondering when the Judge had shrugged on the barber cape, not to mention,  _sat down._

Shaking his bewilderment away, he headed over to the vanity, exchanging the pot and lather brush for one of his faithful razors...

He crept back over to the chair, smiling with ill-will at the sight of his victim -  _eyes shut, throat exposed._

The man was wonderfully  _oblivious._

Mr Todd started off like he always would, shearing some of the man's stubble off... initiating ridiculous small talk. At least this way, he could lure the man into his sharp clutches unsuspected.

Now that the Judge was too focused on receiving a shave, Eva carefully lifted the lid of the trunk a fraction and peered out, eyes gleaming with excitement - the man she too,  _loathed,_ would soon be a lifeless corpse.

It wasn't long until Mr Todd found his itch of blood-lust seeping through his sullen mask.

_"I'm sure a man like you must attract the ladies?"_

"Why,  _of course."_ the Judge replied with a blatant smirk on his mouth. "When one earns a flawless reputation, it becomes rather...  _appealing_  to many women."

 _"Even women who are_ married?"

The Judge hesitated.

"Some, yes. Though who can blame them?" he eventually chuckled, not even bothered about his hiding his true narcissism.

_"And what of their husbands? What do they think when you claim their wives as some kind of worthless trophy?"_

The Judge cracked his eyes open and frowned at his barber - the sudden confident insinuation in Mr Todd's tone of voice caught him by surprise.

"What? What sort of question is that?"

_"Is this face not one that you recall?"_

It only took the infernal man a moment, as Mr Todd paused over his face, still holding the razor to his neck.

The Judge gawped at the barber, eyes wide with comprehension. He recognised the man now - the once dark brown locks on the barber's head were now tainted black, the once kind chestnut eyes were now a dead obsidian yet fiercely blazed with ruthless rage as his mouth curled into a silent snarl.

 _"Benjamin Barker."_ the Judge finally muttered, his brow dropping into a frown of confusion... and then concern when his gaze rested on the barber, who was now looming over him. Mr Todd looked like he'd sucked up all the shadows in his room because they illustriously clung to his face, causing him to look a lot more threatening than he habitually did.

Finally, it seemed that Judge Turpin was taking him  _seriously._ Not that his enemy had much  _choice_ with a  _demon_ looking down on him.

A deranged emotion came over the barber as he raised his arm back, his hand tightly clenched around his razor - its silver blade gleamed, reflecting what little light was in the place.

Just as the barber inhaled sharply, readying himself to yell back at his nemesis with all the fury of a woken incubus, he saw his prey's attention shift... resting on something behind his back.

The Judge had caught a glimpse of the trunk's lid wavering slightly...  _the game of hide and seek was up._

Eva could no longer hide, she'd have to reveal herself or she would only disrupt Mr Todd's vengeance further. Nevertheless, she pretended she'd never moved for a moment, in hopes that the Judge finally thought he'd gone mad.

But Mr Todd briefly looked over his shoulder, darting his angered eyes to the glinting grey ones, which peeped through the darkness at him. She stayed dormant, too concerned with the rage in his eyes to intervene... or even make an appearance.

It was too late to stay there however, because the Judge had spotted her eye-line, even from all that way across the room...

_"Y-You?!"_

An eerie silence passed over the shop for a few moments, like the brief calm that would always come before a storm.

"It can't be...  _you!_ You are nothing more than...  _a ghost_! A ghost of who she once was, and no longer shall be." the Judge bellowed in disbelief, hands clawing around the arms of the barber chair in stubborn fear.

Mr Todd was bewildered as the lid of the trunk snapped open fully, and she sat up, emerging out of it like she had been in some kind of claustrophobic coffin. Eva's body language was unreadable, yet her eyes held both excitement and nervousness at the same time.

Taking advantage of Eva's distraction, the barber snarled and batted his bent arm upwards, his elbow colliding with his nemesis' jaw in a fierce upper-cut.

The Judge fell back into the chair, no longer able to lean forwards with intrigue. He cried out harshly - now that his jaw was slack with pain, he could no longer form words properly.

Fed up of the pathetic sounds coming out of him, Sweeney growled with frustration, swiftly swiping the razor across the width of his enemy's throat...

Scarlet drips started to spill out from the neat wound he'd slit, but that wasn't enough for him. He clenched his teeth, fingers sliding down to the end of his razor in order to jab it into the fresh slice.

The sharpened blade needled it's way deeper and deeper within the tattered flesh of the Judge's neck, and Sweeney's eyes grew wider and wider with malevolent victory.

The Judge was now spluttering uncontrollably, coughing up so many thick rivers of red that they streamed down and clotted over the hands of his murderer. He wheezed frantically, attempting to breathe properly but Mr Todd dug the blade in deeper, severing a few more branch-like veins.

Sweeney found that the Judge wasn't dying as quickly as he would have liked, and ripped his weapon out of the man's neck, tearing through more skin as a consequence.

As the Judge gargled, internally drowning due to all of the blood vigorously spewing out of his grimly mutilated throat, Sweeney couldn't stand the sight of him desperately trying to hang onto life. He madly threw his fist towards the man, his open razor still tucked neatly inside his palm.

The barber's final attack was a blow to man's brow, but it soon turned into a swipe as he sunk his blade into the thin sheet of skin covering the Judge's forehead. His nemesis shuddered erratically and fell backwards, hitting the back of his skull against the barber chair. Blood trickled down the man's body, tiny pools gathering below his feet.

The barber slammed his foot down on the chair's pedal - such a sharp action was appropriately  _gratifying_ to end his plaguing lust for vengeance.

With a satisying tick of winding cogs, the chair tipped back, and Mr Todd's eyes lit up at the noise of the Judge's clothes sliding against the material of the chair's padding. He near grinned with glee as his nemesis slid down into the flamey-glow of the bake-house, where he'd serve a never-ending afterlife of regret and suffering.

As the trap door shut, like a dense metal curtain drawing Sweeney Todd's murderous act to a close... he felt like a heavy rock had been lifted from his body. He felt like he'd suddenly been  _electrocuted,_ for his eyes lit up with such  _energy_ and his blood pumped ten to the dozen, stricken with electrifying adrenaline.

Now very much alive, he remembered that another person was present and darted around to face them, his eyes flashing with irrational accomplishment.

Admiration shone in Eva's eyes, lighting her up brighter than he'd ever seen her to be in the few months he'd known her. Seeing the proud face of someone he'd previously been cautious about, caused him to realise that her witnessing the death of Turpin meant more to him than he'd known.

_He then recalled what his nemesis had said._

And a frenzied attack of  _doubt_ swept over him.

 _"A ghost?"_ he whispered, hand still dangerously curled around the handle of his open razor. "That's what he said. What do  _you_ have to do with  _him?_ What did he mean?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps he was just feeling delirious?" she replied apprehensively, though from the width of her eyes, it was obvious she was hiding something.

"As the last moments of life flashed before that rat's eyes, I highly doubt that he was verging on  _madness_ , Miss Fiori."

He advanced towards her, his eyes curious as  _tears_ rolled down her cheeks - yet she made no sound. The fact she was expressing emotions other than sincerity and hostility, made him uncomfortable. Although he was witnessing her strong wall of mystery crumbling down into feeble rubble, he couldn't help smirking with gladness. She seemed just as enthralled as he was now that the Judge was dead... though he couldn't understand why she was as happy as him. It wasn't like that wretch had destroyed her life.

Not like  _him..._

Then again, he knew nothing about her.

"What did he mean?" he repeated firmly, hand tightening around his razor's handle... a polite warning, it seemed.

The density in his dark eyes dimmed slightly as he watched her stand to arise out of the trunk, her smile quivering into a wobbling line, her eyes suddenly seemed ever so...  _kind._

"I would've thought you'd have realised by now." she said softly, lifting her head up to look at him directly. "We're not so different, you and I."

He frowned, the feel of his enemy's blood trickling down his face became much harder to ignore. And ever so _itchy._ His mind was suddenly in overload, a whole spiral of different emotions floating through him...

 _"What are you saying?"_ he breathed out, his eyes searching her face - he was attempting to piece everything together.

_A ghost of who she once was, and no longer shall be..._

The words echoed around his skull, and the more he studied the undertaker stood before him, the more he recognised certain things about her... things he'd seen somewhere before.

_Like her eyes._

They could have once been a blooming  _blue,_ for all he knew. It was clear, that they would have once danced with life, but now... they were toughened and had faded to a tired grey...

"No you're  _not._ You  _can't_ be." he whispered quickly, shaking his head once as he looked back at her, black eyes wide with realisation at what she had been inferring. "I refuse to believe such nonsense. Johanna resides at Turpin's residence. She always has. She's been under his guardianship all of her life - "

"And you believe that your own daughter would've sat there,  _passively stuck_ in a life that she hated? What if she'd taken after the devious side of you, instead of drowning in her own innocence?"

He studied her face, and the more he looked at her, the more he was connecting things. The girl's words were starting to make some sense.

Nothing about her was Johanna-like... then again, how was he to know? He had forgotten how his wife had looked now that he'd misplaced his picture frame, even so, the photograph had been taken in black and white. He couldn't possibly know what Johanna would have looked like, seeing as he'd only been around her when she was a vulnerable young infant.

Staring back into the undertaker's grey eyes however, he noticed a familiar emotion in them - it was the same look of resilience that he'd seen Eleanor wear on countless occasions, and it was an emotion he admired, and wanted to feel himself.

His eyes tore away and settled on the shoulder-length deep red hair, studying the matted specks of blood that had gotten entwined within it. He supposed the red liquid was the cause for her hair's colour, though he was sure that the base underneath was similar to the brown that Benjamin's hair had been. He swallowed and winced, suddenly overwhelmed with confusion.

_"How?"_

"Come on now, Mr Todd." she said softly, stepping out of the trunk in case she had to restrain him from doing anything stupid. "You surely didn't expect a child that had lived through so much tragedy to just sit down and continue taking orders from a man like Turpin? As you and I both know now, the loss or lack of loved ones can change you into an entirely new person. And once I was placed under the care of Judge Turpin, I knew that I could no longer be the innocent daughter who pined over her lost parents, the long-forgotten  _Barkers."_

The sadness rippled through him, but part of him felt such pride as he watched her continue, her tears drying out over her cheeks as the emptiness in her eyes showed how truly numb to her past she was. He felt the same, now that the cause of every burden was finally dead.

Talking about things finally felt achievable to him.

"I had to  _get out,_ Mr Todd. Even if it meant trading riches for rags... I  _yearned_ for independence. The bargain meant codemning a girl younger than I to a life of corruption, but I never hesitated, and I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if I had to."

He was silent, and mostly motionless, apart from his hand, which flicked his razor closed in an instant. He wore a deep frown as he stared at her, still deeply confused by what the girl stood before him was telling him.

The razor clattered down to the blood-spattered floorboards.

"What does this mean?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes glazing over in thought - too much had happened in the space of a few minutes, too much to comprehend. He needed time for everything to sink in.

"Well..." Eva said, eyebrows knitting together in an odd expression of hope. "I mean, it doesn't really  _change_ anything. At least... that's what  _I_ think."

He held the stern confusion on his face, and watched her slowly extending her hand out to him. He glared at her dainty hand, noticing how sooty it was. However, the gesture itself was the true reason that he was internally shocked...

His mouth gaped open slightly, like his brain was calculating something to say but it was his bloodied right hand that reacted before he found his words. His right arm extended out to meet hers, his eyes widening like he was expecting her to double-cross him.

Yet when their hands met in an awkward union of grisly blood and dusty blackness, his suspicions finally seemed to settle down.

"I really don't expect anything different from how we are now." she admitted sincerely as she continued to shake his hand, grey eyes filled with honesty as for the first time, Sweeney Todd acknowledged her with quiet pride. "I still expect that we'll both be acquaintances, don't you?"

He was silent as he studied her features, so awestruck by the ghoulish sight of her that his mind started to race for answers. Already, so much was starting to make sense...

_... but there was still so much to be explained._

_"No."_ he finally answered her shortly, squeezing his grip around her hand. "I consider you to..."

He trailed off, searching her face for anything else familiar and she frowned, almost reflecting the same scowl he was wearing.

"I... consider you to be a  _friend,_ Miss Fiori." he whispered, and she could see him attempting to decipher out the resemblances in her... she'd done a marvelous job at ripping her mother's genes out of her, but she could never disguise the reminder of Lucy in her eyes.

Eva smiled as a few more absent-minded tears rolled down her cheeks, nodding her head in agreement. She then took her hand away from his in order to wipe the stray tears away, letting out a deep breath.

"I... " she began, her voice shaking a little bit as she tried to assert herself to her usual deadpan tone. "... I'll deal with whatever's left of the Judge. You've had quite the shock this evening... I mean, he's finally dead for god's sake, you shouldn't have to worry about disposing of him. I'll make sure to burn him, can't risk him going into a pie. He's too high - "

"High profile, yes." he finished, smirking at her - he couldn't help feeling a sense of overwhelming pride. Hell, he  _shouldn't_ have, considering she was no better than  _he_ was. They were both equally as twisted as each other, but... they were father and daughter all the same.

_And more alike than he could ever have imagined._

"Right, I'd better see it done then." she added when she adjusted the hat on her head, sniffing away her true emotions. "You'd better head downstairs and see to Mrs Lovett."

He frowned at her words, his eyes widening, "I'm... not so sure about  _that."_

"I never meant  _that,_ Mr Todd." she shot back, eyeing him with shock. "But by all accounts, I really wouldn't be surprised."

He smirked at her, amusement in his eyes. He nodded towards her, and it was clear to her, that he was silently thanking her.

Without another exchange of words, he walked towards his door with a slight spring in his step... and once he reached his desired destination, burst out of his shop door.

Once he set foot outside, he inhaled the smog-filled air deeply, like he could sense a brief change in the city's atmosphere...

Or perhaps he finally sensed his long-awaited  _freedom._


	35. His Silent Infatuation

Sweeney paused outside her bedroom door, breaths shallow, hands clenching around the sides of the door-frame for support. He'd had a shot of gin to steady his nerves before he'd even made his way to her door...however it didn't seem to be doing much for him, given his  _sprightly demeanour._

The lack of vengeance-weaved strings made him feel a whole  _orchestra_ of emotions. Their waves of loud feeling flowed through him entirely, especially now that Eleanor Lovett was only just beyond that door.

Everything was suddenly much more  _visible_. He had no memories of his late wife in the back of his mind, she was no longer lurking there to torment him. With the blood still staining his clothing, it was a physical reminder that both Barkers were finally laid to rest. It was time for Todd to do whatever  _he_ wanted to do now.

And in fact, at that very moment, he felt such  _excitement_ streaming through his entire being, that his breathing became faster and harsher. His body sweltered with anticipation and his heart hammered violently against his rib-cage.

All because of his unforeseen freedom.

All because of who was on the other side of that door.

He swallowed back his loud breaths, steadying out each one as he carefully grasped a hand around the doorknob, placing another one flat against the door. He slowly opened it in an overly-cautious manner.

_He wanted to surprise her._

After all, they'd  _both_ been waiting for this moment ever since they'd thought up their little pie scheme. It was a victory he very much wanted to  _share_ with her.

He slid in through the smallest gap in the door that he could fit through, all in order to quicken the pace of what he intended to do. He leaned back into the door, pressing it shut gently, the quiet click of the closing mechanism causing a smirk to touch on his lips.

He was unaware of the time, but given the sound of Eleanor's soft snores and the pitch black of her room, it was likely that it was going on for the early hours of the morning by now.

Unlike her, he was completely wide-awake, black eyes gleaming through the darkness at her sleeping form. She had the covers tightly wrapped around her, like they were a cocoon trapping all the warmth around her body. He was quite disappointed that she was facing away from him. He would have loved to have been greeted by her peaceful, enchanting features the moment he'd walked in that door.

_His honest feelings were finally breaking through, it seemed._

He didn't dwell on his thoughts - which was a good job, seeing as his feet were already carrying him across the floor towards her. He was surprised at how much of a buzz he was feeling as he sneaked up to the side of her bed, eyes lingering on the hair that was usually up in pins... instead, it was sprawled out in a squiggly mess of faded-red behind her head.

Even in the darkness, the woman was the most enticing thing he'd ever laid eyes upon - he could feel himself burning up now that he was so close to her, the anticipation of surprising her was beginning to get the best of him.

His bloodied fingers were shaky as he brought them up to tear at his top layer of waistcoat and neck ties, his teeth clenching to stop an impatient growl from being unleashed from his throat. He didn't think his lust for her would grow, but it seemed that now his feelings for her were finally consuming him completely, he was near  _animalistic._

Once he flung his top layers of clothing across the floor, he slipped off his shoes as silently as he could, fixated on the shapely curve of her spine now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He practically ripped his shirt off - which was stained with huge patches of burgundy, not that it was any surprise - and slung it to the carpet beneath his bare feet, already starting on his belt.

Eleanor shifted under the covers and he sucked an enormous breath in, one of his hands clawing around his buckle to stop it from jangling. Luckily, she had just been re-adjusting her position, so he carried on, his maddening eyes unable to look away from her.

He couldn't  _wait_ for her reaction. Couldn't  _wait_ for her to realise just how free he was.

_He finally felt alive._

Once he threaded his belt out of his trouser loops, he anxiously lowered it to the floor. He let out a whispery sigh and unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them down his legs hurriedly.

_God, he wanted her._

He'd never felt so  _sure_ about  _anything_ in his  _life._

This night was certainly going to be  _memorable._ For a whole lot of reasons.

Now fully nude, he slowly lowered himself down, low enough so that he could kneel across the free space on the bed beside her. The mattress bounced noticeably at his added weight, and Eleanor murmured in annoyance, shuffling her legs in discomfort.

His fingers scrambled to find a corner of the sheets in the darkness, his smirk appearing once he struck gold. He slid himself beneath the covers, involuntarily humming out as his form was immediately surrounded by warmth... and the aura of  _her._ He inched himself nearer to her, his eyes already falling shut once the heat had risen significantly. He was close enough that he could breathe in her curious scent now.

Once he sensed her skin was nearby, he reached his arms around her and blatantly pressed his palms over the skin of her abdomen. Once he began to stroke firmly up towards her ribcage, she gasped out, the beginning of a shriek squeaking out of her.

He chuckled darkly, pushing his hands firmly over her soft breasts, darting them over her collarbone in order to come to a rest over her mouth - all to smother her scream.

A scream which diminished quite quickly.

She knew who it was, of course.

That deep sound of amusement and that smell of cologne mixed with the poignant stench of iron told her that it was  _him._ The smell of blood was quite overpowering - from this, she knew it was likely that he was still spattered with the stuff. Not that she minded, in fact, she completely forgot about it as soon as she felt him pushing wet kisses to the base of her neck.

He groaned out into her skin, his hands loosely receding to cup around her bust. She cracked open her eyes, letting out a pleasured whimper of surprise at what he was doing. She wondered what had happened for him to lust for her so strongly ... especially so late into the night that he had to wake her up.

It was  _incredibly_ selfish of him.

Then again, she could feel herself reacting to him already - despite her slight irritation at his arrogant actions, her fatigue vanished completely and she willingly gave into him. How could she not? Her adoration lit her up, both mentally and physically - this passion she felt alone, was enough for her to give in.

"Wot's all this for?" she murmured, her back curving against his toned chest and abdomen. She gasped out lightly as he chuckled deeply again, sending vibrations over the tender skin of her neck. One of his callous hands stroked upwards, stopping to grasp hold of her chin between his thumb and index finger.

"Ya not gonna answer me, are ya?"

His kisses to her neck ceased, his hot mouth leaving her skin as he then took a finger from her chin, to lay it across her lips.

 _"Shh."_ he hushed, raising himself up slightly, holding back the urge to beam a grin. He was already  _undeniably_ happy due to the death of his nemesis, perhaps even  _delighted_ that he'd found an unexpected light in his daughter, Eva Fiori.

And now that he was about to make love to Eleanor... it was no wonder the man was so mischievous and oddly  _gleeful._

Not that the woman was  _aware_ of his happiness. Not  _yet,_ anyway.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and shuffled back onto his knees, eyes glinting at her once she obediently rolled onto her back to look up at him. Her gasp of astonishment told him she'd probably laid her eyes on just how much blood still coated his skin. He was unaware how alluring it was to her - she adored how he wore his power plainly on his face for her to see. She shivered excitedly, eyes wide as he knelt over her.

He hovered his mouth over hers, their eyelids drooping in unison. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt a stray hand caressing its way down her left arm, until it came to an abrupt halt in order to clutch around her wrist. He sunk himself down the length her body, his legs pushing back until they hit the foot of the bed. His nose nuzzled against the bottom of one of her breasts and she let out a small moan.

He swiftly brought the hand he'd stolen up to his lips, his elbows bending so that he could prop himself up instead of crushing her with his weight.

She looked down at him through intoxicated eyes, quietly moaning out as she observed the movement of his lips. He enveloped them around one of her knuckles, his tongue lightly tracing down the rest of her digit. She bit her bottom lip, toes curling around the rumples over the sheets beneath her - she was amazed at how the man's slightest touch pushed her into a building oblivion.

She  _yearned_ for his every touch.

As he moved to her next finger, sucking her knuckle lightly, he peered up at her. His eyes were full of unrestrained seductive daring, and withheld words that he was having trouble keeping to himself.

His eyes displayed it all.

From that moment, she knew this intimacy between them... it had  _shifted._

_This time it would be different._

With each split second she returned his gaze, his kisses and licks to her hands became agonizingly slower, each miniscule sensation causing her to lightly bite her lip.

His actions were all a rouse to get her distracted.

He carefully bent his legs, pushing them upwards - luckily Eleanor was too busy with his gaze to notice his movements. He lowered the throb between his legs and brushed himself against the covers, harshly breathing out over her fingers. From the realisation on her face, he knew his attempt at deception had been pointless.

A dirty chuckle burbled out of her and his mouth left her fingers completely.

Internally, Eleanor's heart was beating faster than it had done before. She wasn't used to him giving her so much attention, even sexually. Habitually they would just get down to the bones of it as fast as possible... but to see Sweeney slowly sussing her out, calculating every  _slither_ of sensation, studying her every cell...

It was something new.

Something  _unexpected._

Something which told her that he was enjoying her in a completely different way.

Still holding himself up with one of his elbows, he raised his opposite arm to push the sheets off of his back. The cold air swirled around and encapsulated their pale skin. Luckily, the amount of heat they were both radiating took off the bitter edge to the chill - even more so when he sunk down again, pressing his wet lips to her abdomen.

His intense gaze never faltered and never ceased to charm her. Her chest heaved more obviously now that his mouth was heading even lower, his hands easily found their way to gently knead the sides of her thighs. Those black eyes pummelled her and from the feel of his breath panting out over her bottom half, she pleasantly winced.

_She'd surrendered this time._

Perhaps it was the fatigue. Perhaps it was her weak heart.

Perhaps, it was because she sensed a change in him.

As Sweeney continued to puff out teases of warm air over her arousal, the sight of him alone sent shivers through her being. Now that she was practically wide awake and full of beans, she drank in his appearance...

Clustered locks of black that had only gotten messier from the arduous day of murder, the white flash which only added to his delicious insanity, the pallid skin that was deathly white even in the pitch black, the pallid skin which also wielded the bloody remnants of his last victim, the endless blackness of his eyes that displayed such  _wicked_ intent...

... the mouth that was shadowed with alluring stubble, which hovered inches over her.

She watched with wide eyes as he dropped his head lower, his conniving lips curling into a smirk as he continued to return her gaze relentlessly.

Eleanor wanted to scream out in frustration - the pleasant anticipation surging through her was building far too much for her to handle. Her threshold was fairly minimal to begin with, but she would have to stop him teasing her eventually. He'd never let her go this long without him before.

Then again, she'd never experienced him wanting to kiss her so...  _intimately._

He'd always made sure to mask his eagerness, especially when initiating their intimacy. Yet there he was, shamelessly staring back at her with such  _certainty._

She  _loved_ certainty.

His tongue slipped through his lips and her entire body tensed as he came into contact with her flesh, her sharp gasp earning a throaty chuckle in response.

The vibrations of his amusement carried on until his lips soon met with her too. His articulate hands firmly clung around her thighs, ensuring she didn't wriggle out of place. His thumbs nonchalantly pressed circles into the tender flesh of her inner leg, encouraging the whimpers of gratification she recklessly allowed herself to expel. Her noises grew in volume and her eyebrows raised, his black eyes taking in her facial expressions with every adept maneuvure of his mouth.

As much as he was torturing himself by pleasuring her... the throbbing ache was worth it. From what he was doing, he was certain she still blindingly  _yearned_ for him.

His kisses to her quickened, and that only heightened the quality of pleasure she felt. In fact, he could feel the muscles of her legs tense beneath his palms as she began to blatantly moan out.

His ears savored every note of her pleasure, and he hummed against her, flicking his eyes down to observe his actions. Now that his attention was diverted, her moans were louder and he couldn't help smirking as she began to meet his face with her hips. Her to-and-fro enthusiasm caused him to dart his eyes back up to study her.

Her defined cheeks were smudges of light-grey that had been pressed into the darkness... her chocolate eyes were full of intoxicated pleasure, and they pierced his heart, forcing his blood to pump faster the more that they glistened. Her auburn curls were tangled and free, scattered across the pillow behind her...

In that moment, Eleanor Lovett was the epitome of beautiful darkness. It didn't matter how dark the circles around her eyes were, or how many lines of age she had... such things only  _attributed_ to her appearance. The woman was almost  _otherworldly_ as she continued to watch him with her droopy gaze, her expression and presence alone seemed to awaken something deep within him.

 _God,_ she was  _his?_

_She was his._

As he aided her, he couldn't help rubbing himself over the mattress sheet again - when he growled into his kiss, she bucked against him, his hands struggling to keep her in place.

When his attempts at keeping her still failed, he growled with frustration, and gave her a seething look once she managed to gently tap her thigh against his cheek - it was enough to let him know she wanted something else now.

 _"Sweeney..."_ she murmured lowly, her arms reaching down to softly caress the sides of his neck.  _"C'mere love..."_

The hoarseness of her voice caused him to shiver, and despite his brief irritation, he obeyed her, carefully crawling up from the place between her legs.

On his way back to hover his lips over hers, he was oblivious to the cheeky hand she'd slipped down, and she confidently grabbed hold of him.

 _"God!"_ he groaned out loudly, arms tensing into pillars either side of her, palms pressed flat over the mattress.  _"Fuck, Nell. Fuck..."_

Before he could say anything more, she arched herself upwards and enveloped her lips around his, their eyes instantly closing. He hummed into their kiss, her hand on him taunting his skin in the most pleasant ways possible. He thrust himself towards her and she broke away from his mouth, spilling out a playful cackle before she could stop herself. She was amused - his eagerness took her by surprise, and she couldn't help displaying her love for him by grazing her teeth over her cheeky smile.

He cracked his eyes open, panting out across her face as he studied her features. Her adoration caused him to shiver again, and he groaned out brashly due to her love for him, not giving a damn about how much his audible pleasure surprised her.

"Wot's gotten into you, Mr T?" she whispered, smirking as she sped up the pace of her hand. "Not like you to be so - "

 _"Be quiet."_ he breathed back harshly, his tone not matching the silly expression of half-amusement on his face. "I wish for tonight to last longer, is all."

Her hand slowed to a halt after hearing his words and she frowned up at him, her broad chocolate eyes desperately searching for the devious mirth in his gaze. She expected to see his mask, but all she could see was undiluted honesty.

"W-Why?" she choked out, her breath almost cutting out her voice when he shuffled against her. He slid himself upwards, so that he loomed over her, his elbows digging into the pillow either side of her head.

He beamed an enormous grin at her, the tip of his nose brushing against hers.

"We 'ave a reason to celebrate, pet." he spoke calmly, despite the flash of glee in his eyes. His malevolent smile skimmed over her lips and her eyes were bright with giddiness, every brush of his skin over her body causing her insides to set alight.

_"He's gone."_

His relieved tone was surreal - she'd never heard his voice so soft. Each syllable was laced with danger from his overwhelming lust and new found elation... she knew from the maddening grin he wore that he'd  _finally_ fulfilled his vengeance.

And,  _more importantly,_ he'd finally given in to her.

She inhaled sharply, feeling tears of joy filling up her eyes as she let out a breathy laugh, still exploring the hypnotic emotion that he stared at her with. Before he had chance to open his mouth to say anything more, she let out a deep breath, reaching up her free hand to clench it around a bunch of his black hair.

He chuckled throatily at her actions, the sound of him only confirming that his existence was real. The poor woman thought there was still a possibility that everything before her eyes was a  _dream..._ she was too used to failure in her life, so it was no wonder that when everything seemed to go according to plan, she was incredibly confused.

 _"I love you."_ she breathed, tugging at his hair slightly which caused him to feign a frown. He still wasn't sure how to react when she said that, but considering she leaned forwards and smothered his mouth with a passionate kiss... she wasn't expecting him to react  _verbally._

He brayed his lips hard against hers, the two of them moaning out in impassioned unison. Once he sensed that she was wriggling beneath him, he pulled away from her mouth, smirking at her gasps for air before he began sucking at her neck.

 _"Ohh... Sweeney..."_ she panted out thoughtlessly, her fingers entwining around his black locks to make a fist of support.  _"I love you so much."_

It seemed that she couldn't stop herself from saying it.

She was amazed how her words seemed to drive him crazier - his curious kisses and playful sucks to her throat's skin became more aggressive, his teeth grazing over each pulsating blood branch beneath her thin sheet of white skin. He was making her shake with ecstasy from his harshness, the sound of his groans only added to her enjoyment as she began to work her hand around him again.

She could sense that he'd realised he was now free of any chains, for every one of his reactions was brashly unleashed - one moment she was teasing him with her hand, the next he was pulling himself away from her to yank her down into a star shape, her back flat against the mattress.

Everything about his lust was so tastefully impure that her breaths shortened with anticipation. When he grasped his hands around her wrists to hold them over the pillow behind her head, she let out a whimper of amazement.

He poised his face over hers, his hot breath panting out over parted lips. Her eyes scanned over the blood spatter on his features, her teeth grazing her bottom lip to stop a desperate desire-filled sigh from escaping her.

Knowing himself, that he had to relieve his near-insatiable appetite for Eleanor Lovett before he grew even more lustful, he dipped his mouth down, violently caressing her lips. Her entire body reacted in response - something he was rather surprised at, seeing as he'd never felt her react like this before.

He felt her legs wriggling beneath him, her feet stroking against the sides of his calf muscles... then her torso arched upwards, so that her bare chest brushed up against him...

He hadn't expected her to end their kiss so soon, and his eyes opened, and immediately he questioned himself - had he done something wrong?

He frowned at her as she pushed her body upwards, her breasts pressing against him when she brought her mouth to one of his ears.

 _"Hell,_  it's about bleedin' time, Sweeney..."

He snarled at her cheekiness and shoved her back down - she let out a playful shriek when her head hit the pillow behind her, and she ended up in fits of giggles, watching his feigned his anger - she could tell that he'd found his frustrated outburst rather funny too, his eyes were shimmering with delightful amusement.

 _"Oh!_ This ain't  _fair,_  Mr T."

"And why's that, pet?"

"As a good friend'a mine once said,  _'cause we both know that you want to fuck me just as hard as I want to fuck you."_  she whispered, mischief twirling effortlessly in her chocolate pools.

 _"Friend?_ That's a curious word." he whispered, subtly aligning his body over her, because she was driving him pleasantly wild with her beautifully clever way with words - he was surprised that she'd even remembered what he'd said to her that night.

His nose nuzzled against hers and she felt him lowering his hot bottom half downwards. One of his hands pushed against her thighs to shakily part her legs, his black eyes never once backing down from gazing at her.

"I would have thought  _'lover',_ would've been more  _appropriate_ , don't you think?" he teased, his lips skimming over hers as his eyelids drooped down - he'd completely succumbed to her.

Finally, he was feeling her for what she truly was to him.

The contact between their mouths and their throbbing flesh was almost in unison, their moans commencing instantaneously. He pumped himself into her at a quick pace, one hand gripped to her waist, the other eagerly exploring her tastefully pale canvas.

Their mouths fought firmly as their bodies' maneuvres became more elaborate and impulsive - teeth pulled at the skin of a bottom lip, delicate fingers clenched around strands of messy black hair, whilst callous fingers tortuously teased. When the sensations took the two of them over completely, they parted mouths, gasping, groaning, grunting...

Already, Eleanor missed his lips on hers and she tugged his hair, leaning forwards. Her actions forced him to oblige her, and he felt himself falling backwards slowly - he growled out once he finally laid out on his back, still buried deep inside her. For once, he paid no attention to the dominance she was asserting over him, he merely watched on in audibly loud satisfaction as she rolled her hips over him.

When she paused her movements to lean down, Sweeney's eyes widened in surprise, their deep breaths meeting as their lips pushed together in a chaste kiss. He hummed against her mouth, allowing his eyes to close in submission. He could feel her lips curving into a devious smile as she chuckled into his mouth - he frowned in confusion, but the expression was long gone as soon as she began to move over him again, with  _twice_ the vigour as before.

Their kiss finally ended, and Eleanor's energetic cries of enthusiasm filled his ears without any delay. He too, could no longer hold back his deep grunts of enjoyment as she bucked her hips against him. He was hypnotised by the experience of her - the way she was engulfing him was unlike anything he'd felt before.

He was finally  _seeing_ her,  _hearing_ her,  _smelling_ her,  _feeling_ her, for the delectable woman she was... he was physically and mentally  _struck_ by her... and the mere  _notion_ of him being free to do whatever he wished with her,  _to_ her...

It sent him pleasantly  _mad._

 _"Nell..._ oh,  _Nell..."_ he gruffly pushed out, his eyes wide with pleasure as she stared desperately back at him, her eyebrows knitted together as she continued to bounce up and down. With every shallow breath, a low rumble of her name spewed out from between his lips - his sudden use of her preferred name sent shivers down her spine. His harsh intonation as he said it caused her to give out a high gasp, her legs tensing wildly.

He let out a long, shuddered breath and he finally took back some control of the situation by sliding his hands down from her waist to settle on the skin beneath her hips. Even as she began to waver as the volume of her moans grew rapidly, he kneaded his thumbs over her tender skin, urging her to carry on.

She gulped in air, starting to wheeze from satisfied exhaustion, but Sweeney wasn't content with her surrender. His hands gripped around her more firmly and he guided her hips towards his, moving himself closer to meet her more firmly.

It wasn't long until their pleasure overcame them, and their bodies shook, their groans merging into one loud grunt of completion. Their reward of their gratifying end was the most electrifying high that they'd experienced together...

Eleanor dropped herself onto his heaving chest, panting erratically as she shut her eyes to the wave of happiness that gushed through her. She wore a relieved smile as his arms tightly wrapped around her - he embraced her like she was some sort of comforting teddy bear, and she couldn't help expelling an airy sigh.

 _"God,_ that were  _good!"_ she croaked out with passion, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. He chuckled hoarsely, one his flat palms stroking its way up the back of her until it reached the top of her neck - where it then delved into her head of dark red hair, fingers gently twirling a lock here and there.

"I never knew that it hadn't been good before." he replied with a smirk, resting his chin on the top of her head. She laughed out one of her dirty giggles, lifting herself away from him so that she address him.

"You was all covered in blood 'fore... where's that all gone,  _eh?"_ she teased, biting her lip to stop another cackle from erupting out of her. He raised a brow at her in amusement and the giggles flew out of her before she could stop herself.

"I don't know  _what_ you're talkin' about, pet. I never came in 'ere in such a state, how  _dare_ you." he said emptily, mocking his usual strict and stoic demeanour. She snorted another laugh, shuffling over him slightly.

As she moved a little, he cast his eyes down to explore her chest - but on the way there, he noticed a minuscule break in the precious skin by her throat -  _an incision._ How had he not seen that before?

Well... he  _had_ been a tad  _distracted_.

He shot up into a sitting position and she slid off him, letting out a little yelp of surprise.

"S-Sweeney? Everythin' alright, love?" she asked hurriedly, already wearing a look of worried despair.

"You didn't tell me that you were hurt." he whispered, reaching his arm forwards to gently caress the small cut. She winced a little bit but internally, utter relief flooded her.

_She thought he'd been having second thoughts._

"O-Oh, this lil' thing? S'nothin' t'worry yourself over. Just nicked meself when I was down in the bake'ouse, its a simple mist - "

"You're far too meticulous for that to ever happen, Eleanor." he snapped coldly, black eyes digging into her through the tinted sheet of night. She was completely flattered by his words, but she knew he hadn't intended to compliment her.

"Who did that to you?" he questioned sternly, and she could already sense the anger in his voice.

 _"Beadle Bamford!"_ she blurted out, unable to stop herself from unleashing the truth - seeing as they were thoroughly exposed and his eyes were so warm with concern, it was impossible to keep the facts away from him. " 'Threatened me just after closin' but... 'e's long gone now."

 _"Threatened_ you?" he breathed, studying her small wound with a wince. "He didn't dare try to - "

 _"No."_ she interrupted, giving him a reassuring smile when he gaze at her. "Certainly not. And 'e didn't scare me either, 'specially seein' as 'e were usin' a silly ol' sword-cane. If ya wanna  _scare_ me then that's definitely the wrong way to go about it. 'E's bleedin' snuffed it now though, thank 'eavens."

He frowned at her, yet his eyes were filled with amusement. And before he knew it, he let out a genuine laugh, one that was slightly unusual... but then again,  _any_ sign of a giggle from Sweeney Todd was unusual.

Eleanor gawped at him in surprise, her eyes lighting up with intrigue.

"W-Wot? Wot's up? Wot's so funny?" she asked in disbelief, unable to conceal her optimistic smile. She lowered herself down and perched in between his legs, elbows to the mattress as she held her chin in her palm.

"You are... the  _strangest_ woman I've ever met." he admitted, still wearing a silly smirk even though his laughter had subsided. "Any other woman would've fought for their life, but  _you?_  You just judge the disgusting pig's taste in  _weapons."_

 _" 'Course_ I do! I 'ad to be honest about 'im bein' shit when it came to intimidation. I got meself all nervous, and then 'e pulls out this disappointin'  _baby_ cane - "

"Ah, perhaps you're just used to a better class of  _assailant,_ pet?" he taunted, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

She gaped at him in shock yet her eyes returned his dark, daring expression. Before she could express her carefully crafted reply, he leaned forwards, pressing his warm lips against her thin wound. He lingered there for a moment, and she only pulled him further towards her, closing her eyes with welcomed completion.

Without Sweeney knowing, his actions that night spoke louder than any meaningful word he could have ever constructed.


	36. Three

It was unusual for Sweeney Todd to sleep in, let alone sleep at all. Yet that night, he'd slept soundly, even with Eleanor hugging to his perpiring form. He habitually hated her invading his privacy, especially when he woke, but that morning he couldn't hide his expression of contented relief.

Memories of his night of murderous fulfillment, and their night of omni-present passion, came back to him in delightful slices as he rubbed his eyes. Memories of the Judge sliding out of the barber's bloodied throne caused him to smirk, and it only broadened, once he recalled the feel of Eleanor Lovett as she'd pushed her body in time to meet his...

Eleanor's lips brushed against his chest as she murmured something in her sleep and he frowned down at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He found her incoherent utterings to be rather amusing and decided to lay there for a bit, listening to her sleeping.

He cautiously brought a hand up to her head, and stroked her hair back so that he could see more of her face. He adored her when she was peaceful, with a small smile upon her lips, and most importantly, she was  _quiet._ He could watch her sleeping for hours, just admiring her beauty alone. He was that content, that he struggled to keep his eyes open, and his eyelids shielded the sight of her - he continued to stroke her hair back to ensure he could still feel her within his touch.

With her completely at ease, and draped over him, he knew that this was definitely something that he could get used to.

Deciding that he wanted to make a nice impression on this morning (he still felt like he needed to celebrate his independence if some way), he opened his eyes as an idea formed in his head, studying her on top of him. She was still sound asleep in her presumably  _elated_ dreams, and he couldn't help a proud smirk touching upon his lips.

He placed a chaste kiss to her forehead and then carefully took his hands from her, shuffling himself out from beneath her. He hated the feeling of absence once her warm skin left his body, but he was content knowing that he would only feel it again and again, now that he'd make sure to wake up every morning with her.

He reluctantly swivelled out from the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress, strands of jet hair loosely falling before his eyes as he slowly reached down for his discarded clothes.

As he shrugged on his trousers, he grew curious about whether Eleanor had woken - so he shot her a glance over his shoulder. He smirked at the sight of her - she'd snuggled into the pillows, completely oblivious that Sweeney (whose name she still quietly mumbled) had left her. He turned his attention to the ground as he cautiously stood up, the cold hitting him instantaneously.

Gritting his teeth, he snatched up his bloodied shirt to shove it on over his head. He attempted to tuck the blasted thing in, and then briefly looped his neckties in a neat fashion, finishing by snapping on his braces. He pondered about putting on his belt... but didn't think it was a good idea, the noise of the buckle would be sure to wake up Eleanor.

With one last look towards her, he smiled briefly before he skulked over her bedroom floor in his bare feet.

He intended to make a kind gesture towards her this morning... he hadn't the slightest notion why, he just... felt the need to  _do_ something for her.

Slipping through her bedroom door successfully, he softly shut it behind him, frowning at the sight of the fiery ambience of the parlour.

Due to his line of sight, the first thing he saw was the settee - which was currently very much  _occupied_ by Miss Fiori. His eyebrows knitted into an uncomfortable wince, because he hadn't expected her presence and he didn't really know what to say to the girl. Parenting certainly wasn't something he knew how to approach... considering that he'd not too long ago  _attacked_ his daughter, it was proving hard for him to adjust to who she was. Not to mention, proving hard to adjust to who  _he_ was to  _her._

Luckily, from the shadowed lids covering her eyes, he didn't have to say a word. She was stretched out, fast asleep, her deep red hair half-hiding her face from his view. He dropped his discomfort and crept from his place by the door.

As he walked further into the centre of the parlour, he stopped in tracks when he spotted Toby, who was sat cross-legged in front of the flickering fireplace. He hadn't been able to see the lad from where he'd been stood before.

The lad wore a disconcerted expression as he gazed at the flames - clearly he'd heard Mr Todd leaving Mrs Lovett's room. He hadn't even needed to turn his head to lay eyes on the man because the atmosphere of the room changed as soon as Mr Todd had stepped into it. The thought of the barber being with a good person like Eleanor Lovett until  _morning,_ made all the colour drain from his little face.

Sweeney was fully aware that Toby's beady brown eyes were now on him, and he easily ignored the lad's silent daggers by turning his head away. He then set on his way and continued to traipse across the room, wearing an unreadable emotion as the orange glow of the fire-light fell across his pale skin.

He quickly reached the other side of the room and headed up the narrow staircase to his right. He'd decided on preparing some tea, given that it was too early for a tumbler of gin - even for  _him._

Once he opened the door to his barber shop, he was greeted to the sight of the place  _spotless._ He couldn't help a smug smile spreading across his face - no wonder Eva was a slave to sleep that morning, she must have cleaned the place from floor to ceiling. She was  _meticulous,_ it seemed.

His breath was visible when he exhaled deeply from how freezing the place was - how had he coped with such cold conditions before? Well... the dead didn't tend to feel the difference in temperatures, he supposed.

Now starting to shiver, he rushed about his shop, gathering up spoons, a couple of cups, a tea pot containing some tea leaves and his rather dented kettle. It was fairly obvious that he'd bashed the latter against somebody's skull - hence he'd hidden it away from the view of his customers.

It wasn't long before the kettle was sat over the stove, starting to simmer away nicely. He set out each of his items in the order that he'd use them and then turned away, padding over to stare out of his window. The grey gloom of London was staring back at him -  _nothing had changed there._ Then again, it didn't seem as filthy as he'd once thought it to be... probably because the King rat had finally fallen.

He smirked in amusement - he really  _was_ glad to be rid of Judge Turpin.

The kettle slowly began to whistle and his mind was torn back to ones of murder... but he no longer felt like he was within a tunnel where his only intent was to avenge, for the walls had been ripped down, enlightening him with a relieving sense of free will.

Lost in the contents of the window, he was soon juttered out of his thoughts when he noticed something moving in his peripheral vision. When he followed his curiosity, it was a gathering of customers huddled outside Eleanor's shop below.

He scoffed back his urge to laugh out.

They appeared to be ever so impatient, and to know that their irritation was all caused by him making love to her, all the way through until the small hours of the morning...

He grinned  _victoriously,_ but his eyes were fiendish with arrogance. How  _little,_ those meat-bags knew. They could stay there however long they liked. They certainly weren't getting his baker.

Thankfully, before he got lost in some fantasy about what he desperately wished to do to the woman, the kettle had shrieked out, alerting him that the water had finally boiled.

He leaped across his floorboards like an excited child, hands latching onto the kettle's handle. He eagerly tipped the contents of it into the sullen-looking teapot, smiling wickedly. Apparently, it wasn't the  _tea_ he was so enthusiastic about, it was something else, rather,  _someone_ else, on his mind.

He picked up a tea spoon and stirred the leaves around the pot for a bit, then placed on the lid, allowing it settle. He was still wearing a devilish smile, though he seemed to be a little awestruck too.

Perhaps it was the slight realisation of what had truly happened last night that had made him feel so taken aback. Or perhaps, he'd just realised how wondrous his lover really was. The gleam in his eyes definitely indicated the latter.

After a few more seconds, he picked up another spoon, only this one had fine holes cut out of the rounded metal. He held it over one of the cups as he tipped up the kettle, pouring out the searing liquid. He repeated the same actions for the next mug, ensuring the tea was well filtered and then snatched up each cup with his palms.

He rushed across to the door he'd previously entered, backing into it to save him spilling any hot tea. The door slammed after him as he carefully stepped down each stair - it was a slightly difficult task given he was in his bare feet. The tea sloshed violently as he reached the last stair, but each mug was still wrapped securely in his hands.

He casually walked back through the parlour, and Toby instantly lifted his head to see him this time, eyes wide with horror. He'd never seen the man do  _anything_ to help Mrs Lovett before, yet there the barber was, tending to her like some obedient  _lap-dog._ The scene made him sick to his stomach.

Sweeney paused before Eleanor's door, and briefly tilted his head to peer over his shoulder. His eyes were suddenly cold and murky as they settled on the boy, and he stayed silent, and that alone was enough of a warning to keep the boy from objecting to Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett's relationship.

_The man terrified him._

The barber then flicked his eyes to Eva, who was still lost to sleep and strewn across the settee in an exhausted manner. His black eyes softened slightly and the touch of an amused smirk painted across his lips.

He nudged the door open with his bare foot, turning his attention back to the direction of Eleanor's bedroom, now wearing a mischievious smile.

He stepped inside, backing into the door to carefully close it - ensuring that he wasn't to wake Eleanor.

However, it was a precaution that he hadn't needed to take. As he cast his gaze over to the bed, she was slumped against the pillows, her eyes cracked open. Her muffled sniffles gave away that she was awake and he wore a puzzled frown.

 _"Nell?"_ he asked, his voice just over a whisper.

She gasped and quickly jumped up into a sitting position, which unintentionally caused the covers to fall from her torso. He eyed her in suspicion, attempting to read her actions, but inevitably, he ended up getting sidetracked with her enchanting appearance.

She looked fairly surprised to see him - her brown eyes were wide with shock, and equally, her copper hair was reminiscent of an  _electric_ shock with the messy fashion it was in. It was only when he took a step closer, that he realised there were little streaks of water staining her cheeks.

She wore a wince as she slowed her breathing down, swallowing down the lump in her throat.

"I-I -"

"You thought I'd left you, didn't you?" he asked sternly, though it was clear that his coldness was more aimed at himself than towards her. She stayed quiet and nodded her head before sniffling some more.

"You 'ad every right to think so, given 'ow I've been. I'm so  _stupid,_ I should've left you a note so that you wouldn't 'ave worried about where I'd - "

"It's alright, dear." she croaked, her eyes shining as she studied the steam swirling out from the mugs - which were still trapped inside the walls of his clenched hands. "Don't get so angry with y'self. You're 'ere now, that's all that matters."

He cast his gaze down to his feet like he was suddenly ashamed of himself, and approached the side of the bed. He went to set down the cup of tea, but Eleanor leaned over the part of mattress closest to him, lying on her side so that she caught his attention. He smirked as she bit into her smile, peering up at him with puffy eyes - he hated himself for being the source of her tears, but due to that warm smile of hers, he knew his presence had made her undeniably happy.

He handed her one of the warm cups and she sat back a little, ensuring she didn't accidentally spill any of her drink over her bed-sheets.

"You didn't 'ave to do 'is, love. I coulda made us so - "

"I wanted to. Was up before you, so it's only fair, pet." he chimed in, hating her apologetic tone - the woman had nothing to be sorry for. He felt like  _he_ should have been the one apologising.

Before she could thank him, he cautiously perched on the side of the bed, facing the wall as he brought the hot cup up to his lips. She did the same, silently stunned at his early morning generosity. She let out a hum of appreciation as she took her first sip, unable to resist staying quiet.

As they sipped their tea, she never took her eyes away from him. She wasn't sure what to gather from his lack of speech - perhaps he felt  _awkward,_ or... maybe he was just lost in his own thoughts? From his neutral expression and glazed over eyes, she was sure he was deeply working something out in that head of his.

Internally, her heart was pounding with such  _excitement._ She couldn't remember feeling so pleasantly anxious before, but to know that her and Mr Todd's affair had seemingly bloomed into something far much  _more..._

She couldn't help smiling at him, her eyes observing him like he was the most fascinating creature she'd ever encountered. He was staring at the wall, bringing up the rim of the mug to his lips in order to take a quiet sip of his tea now and again.

Even though Sweeney looked as miserable as always, she could tell from his eyes that he was completely at ease with her. In fact, after a minute or two, he kept stealing glances towards her - though it had been in vain, because she always returned his gaze each time. It was impossible for him not to find her enticing - with how she'd gathered the bed-sheets up to cover her nude chest, and how she cradled the mug of hot tea in her slender hands...

It was  _impossible_ for him not to stare.

If he was honest, he would have much preferred her out in the open, and his smirk matched his wicked eyes as he contemplated that thought.

"Wot's that look for?" she questioned in her airy tone as she shuffled a little closer, naturally her actions caught his attention. She beamed a cheeky smile at him, her eyes already searching his.

"Oh... nothin'." he said quietly, reaching his free hand up to caress one of her cheeks. She instantly closed her eyes at his contact and inhaled deeply, leaning into his touch.

"Last night were - "

 _"I know."_ Sweeney cut in swiftly, raising an eyebrow. She didn't have to say anything, everything was shared knowledge now... mentally,  _and_ physically.

Their dark eyes met in amusement as they sipped their drinks in unison. They sat there in a pleasant silence, just calmly enjoying each others company for a little. He took his hand from her cheek, looking over her face with subtle amazement. He couldn't believe how attractive she was... and he couldn't believe he'd gone on ignoring that fact for so long.

He really  _must_ have been  _mad._

"Wot time's it?" Eleanor finally spoke, shattering the precious silence. He blinked a few times like he'd been lost, and then couldn't resist the urge to smirk at how oblivious she was. Did she not realise that he'd been focused on her?

"Well, given that there's quite the gatherin' of hungry customers waitin' outside... openin' time 'as long since passed." he said non-chalantly, like there was no issue at all. Habitually he liked her to keep to her schedule, but it seemed that he truly did feel a lot more different given the events of the night prior... her business didn't seem so important to him at that moment.

She gasped, heavily slamming down her mug on the bed-side table, "Oh  _christ!_ I'd better - "

He watched in confusion as she muttered curses and flung herself up off the bed, her porcelain figure revealed to the room. His brows raised in surprise, but he withheld the urge to say something suggestive - he wasn't entirely sure how she'd react. His eyes trailed her as she started to rush about her room in the nude - he admired her confidence, she didn't seem shy about what she was doing.

Perhaps she'd completely forgotten that she was stark naked in the first place, she could be ever so careless at times. Then again... maybe she was just so comfortable around him that she didn't feel the need to be proper.

Well, he certainly wasn't going to object to her skin being on show - there was no need for  _propriety_ when they were  _alone._

"You could always pretend that you're  _ill,_ Eleanor." he said emptily, taking a louder sip of his tea as his eyes studied the curve of her backside.

 _"Again?!"_ she shrieked, pulling some undergarments out of her wardobe frantically, utterly oblivious to the barber's hungry gaze, which was searing into the back of her."In the last few months I've been  _ill_ an awful lot,  _'aven't I?_ They're gonna catch on that summin's up!"

"So, let them catch on." he replied shortly, placing his cup onto the table beside hers, already starting to stand up before she could protest.

She turned, froze and gawped at him, now hugging her corset around her with both of her arms. She was in disbelief...

"Let me 'elp." he said softly, causing her to let out a little squeak from her throat. She hadn't expected him to assist her further, what had gotten into him?

"I-I can cope perfectly fine, dear - "

 _"No."_ he insisted in a whisper, his hands already firmly seizing hold of her shoulders in order to pull her towards him.  _"I want to."_

She clawed her hands around the corset, her wide eyes following him as he circled around her so that he was behind her.

Sweeney frowned when he noticed that she was still holding her corset to her body - he hated her covering up from him, she had no need to.

"Take your damn hands off, will you? I can't lace you up otherwise." he grumbled, to which she jumped and obeyed him quickly. He let out a huff of annoyance, sliding his arms beneath her armpits to catch the sides of the undergarment before it slid away from her completely.

She let out a shaky breath as he carefully pulled each side around her, lowering his head so that he could hover his mouth beside her neck.

"What were you rushin' for?" he teased in a whisper - his tone caused her eyes to close, and her breathing then started to accelerate. She felt one of the laces slowly tightening and she exhaled sharply, biting into her bottom lip as his lips skimmed over her neck's skin.

He pressed a kiss to her when a few more strings had been tightened and she leaned back into him. It didn't take too long for him to lace her up fully, even though he'd gotten slightly distracted by her again. She slowly turned around to face him once he was finished, peering up at him with a small smile.

"Thanks, love." she whispered, stepping up on her tip-toes to peck his lips. She lingered there a moment and he subconsciously urged her to kiss him again, but she'd already carefully set about sliding on her bloomers.

He felt a little put out, and headed across the room, to where the rest of his clothes were situated. He could hear the fabric sliding over her skin from the opposite side of the bed and he pleasantly shivered. He bent down, picking up his belt from the floor, threading it through his trouser-loops.

Once he'd started to pull on his waistcoat, Eleanor had already pulled on her dress - the woman was rather adept with time management, it appeared. She cast her gaze over to him, rolling her eyes.

"Ya might as well throw that bleedin' shirt out, Mr T. I'll never get them stains out. In fact, just take it off an' I get ya a fresh one now." she exclaimed, sending him a cheery smile as she finished buttoning up the back of her dress.

He stood up straight and turned to her with a frown, "It'll do for the day. I've got some clean shirts upstairs if I wish to change anyway."

He hadn't intended to offend her, but from the slight blush that came over and the way she averted her eyes, it was obvious that she felt a little bit useless. She nodded and stared at the floor, heading over to her dressing table for some hairpins.

It only took a couple of minutes for her to clip her auburn curls up to be out of the way of her shoulders. Sweeney was sat on the bed the entire time, watching her with interest. She didn't know why she was suddenly so uncomfortable with him viewing her - probably because she wasn't used to him doing such a thing.

When her hair was in its usual messy fashion, she dusted her hands on the front of her dress and turned, already heading for the door.

Sweeney stood up from his place on the bed, frowning in confusion. He was unsure why she was so quiet - had he done something wrong?

Eleanor cracked open the door, peeping out into the parlour as she usually did - it was her routine morning scan of the place to check for Toby.

However, she hadn't anticipated the sight of Eva Fiori sat on the settee, staring into the glowing fireplace. If Mrs Lovett could have gone any paler, she would have then.

"W-Wot's  _she_ doin' 'ere?"

Sweeney's frown deepened and he quickly approached her, realising who she must have seen.

"Eleanor..." he breathed, and she frowned back at him as he pushed a flat palm onto the door, causing it to softly close. "There's somethin' I need to tell you."

She winced in apprehension as he rested his hands on her shoulders, taking a step closer, his black eyes searching hers.

 _"I - "_ he started, uncomfortable as Eleanor stared at him in frustration - although, her annoyance was likely a front so that he didn't know how much she adored how he'd been with her that morning.

 _"She - "_ he attempted to phrase again, and she bit back the urge to giggle - she loved how awkward he looked, but she knew exactly what it was that was bothering him.

"She's your daughter?" she blurted out in a deadpan tone, her brow raising to complete her quizzical expression.

His eyebrows dropped into a frown, his eyes widening with intrigue.

" 'Ow did you know?"

" 'Ad an 'unch that she were a while ago." she admitted, beaming a cheerful smile at him. "Thought it were a bit odd that she were so desperate to 'elp us, and she's frightful intimidatin' at times, a lot like you really. Not that ya scare  _me,_ love."

His eyes were filled with amusement and he opened his mouth to ask another question, but naturally, Eleanor beat him to it.

"I didn't wanna say anythin' in case I were just bein' silly. Thought I was maybe readin' too much inta things, but wot d'ya know? I were right."

"You were. This is probably the worst time to 'ave brought this up, Nell. I should've told you last night 'stead of springin' this on you now."

"Not at all. Woulda found out sooner or later, wouldn't I? Speakin'a last night... wouldn't mind'ja tellin' me all 'bout wot 'appened, if ya get chance 'o course." she whispered with a wink and his eyes lit up instantly. He let out a deep growl, leaning forward to press a kiss to her. She chuckled as she met his lips, giving into his heated kiss. They broke away from each other fairly quickly however, deciding they'd better face the day ahead.

Taking a deep breath, Eleanor swung the door open, padding through into the parlour. Sweeney waited a few more seconds before he slowly followed her, his black eyes already searching the place for any sign of Tobias Ragg. He didn't trust that lad to keep his mouth shut about anything - considering that he was wearing a thoroughly blood-soaked shirt, it wouldn't bode well for him should the lad choose to blab to someone.

Eva was now awake, although she still looked extremely fatigued with the way she was propped up lazily, hat and tailcoat resting on the arm of the settee. It was odd to see her without that damn hat on - though Sweeney had a suspicion that the accessory was useful to disguise herself with. He could recognise a lot more about her now that she hadn't got the hat on.

Eleanor came to a stop in the middle of the room, placing her hands on her hips. It wasn't long before Sweeney reached her side, brushing his arms against her own - he already caught her attention by doing such a thing and slid his hand down her forearm, pulling her hand away from her hip in order that he could rest his palm within it. She flicked her eyes towards him, more than a little surprised at his display of affection.

Eva sat up a bit straighter, pushing her hair back out of eyes as she frowned in confusion. She was beginning to wonder whether she was still asleep, because the sight of them holding hands was unexpected. Then again, she shouldn't really have been surprised... she'd thought they befitted one another for quite some time.

"Toby," the young woman addressed the lad, who was still fire-gazing in an attempt to remain forgotten. "run out and get me a broadsheet, will you?"

The boy looked over his shoulder at her and frowned - it was obvious that he didn't want to do as she said. Begrudgingly, he stood, head faced down as he pushed by Mr Todd.

"Oh, and don't even  _think_ about going to law. I know that look." she added in a stern tone just as the boy left the parlour, presumably setting to his task already. She rubbed her sooty eyes, stretching her arms above her head, appearing to be quite at ease despite her slight annoyance due to the lad's incompetence.

"He really doesn't like that you're with one another." she admitted tiredly, not quite thinking about the words she was saying. "He'll just have to get used to it. And we'll be out of your hair soon anyway, I promise."

"Oh no, no need t'leave!" Eleanor exclaimed, her hand tightening around Sweeney's, which caused him to send her a bewildered frown (he didn't quite understand why she didn't leap at the chance of getting rid of the boy - he loathed him after all). "The both'a you's are more than welcome t'stay 'ere whenever ya like."

Eva smiled and nodded, "Thank you, that's ever so kind of you. Then again, I'm sure you know who I am by now, so it's really no surprise."

The barber and baker exchanged silent glances - they found it strange how quick she was to change from thankful to  _deadpan._ But of course, they spoke nothing of it.

"What's next then?" the undertaker asked, running her fingers through her knotted head of wine-like hair. She almost laughed aloud when the baker looked at Sweeney almost hopefully - it was obvious that the woman had no clue what was next for them. And from his blank expression, neither had he.

"You may as well use up what meat you have left, don't you think?" Eva asked, eyes wide as they awkwardly considered her words - she was surprised at their lack of ideas. "What do you intend to do once you're completely done here?"

"Well - " Eleanor began, swallowing nervously when she felt Sweeney grip his hand around hers tightly - she wasn't sure if he was  _encouraging_ her words, or attempting to  _hinder_ them.

"It depends. Whatever Eleanor wishes to do." he cut in before she could say anything further. "It's only fair that she gets to choose. Even if she wishes to move hell an' Earth, I'll go along with her." She squeezed his hand in response, her big brown eyes filled with amazement and longing adoration. Whatever it was that had gotten into him, it was certainly doing the man an awful lot of  _good._

Eva smiled at them both with amusement - she could see Mr Todd hiding his happiness but it was obvious how content he was - his black eyes glowed with softness. But she was sure that those dark, dense eyes would emerge again if he was truly angered. Eleanor, on the other hand, looked as if she was about to unleash a torrent of gleeful chuckles.

Eva shook away her gladness, feeling that their happiness was rubbing off onto her slightly.

" 'Ow much meat do we actually 'ave left to use?" Sweeney asked in a sincere manner, wearing a stern expression, though his gaze was strangely optimistic as he settled it upon his accomplice.

"I'd say there's about two-and-a-half weeks worth left down there, maybe three weeks at a push." Eva replied in a serious tone, sitting backwards so that she could lie on her side, which was much more comfortable. "If you're intending to leave London, once the meat runs out, I may be able to help you. I have plenty of contacts."

Eleanor beamed Sweeney a smile as he returned her gaze - he could practically feel her heartbeat just from holding her hand now. She was well and truly  _excited._ As was he, not that he was great at showing such a thing.

And from there, it was decided.

Mrs Lovett's business would continue as normal, and Mr Todd would stop slaughtering, and instead, give his customers extremely  _close_ shaves and nothing more. The three of them agreed it would have looked suspicious if they'd just packed up and left after a few renowned gentlemen had vanished. Both barber and baker were more than content waiting, as long as it both left them in the clear.

The barber and the baker turned their attention back to the slouched undertaker, who was studying them venomously.

"Let's give it three weeks, then." Sweeney agreed vacantly, extending out his free hand for a handshake.

Eva smirked, sitting up properly before she reached her hand towards him...

"Three weeks it is."


	37. Impending Desperation

A few days had passed since the Judge had finally met his end. It was like all the looming tension at 186 Fleet Street had diminished slightly - the barber and baker had barely bickered now that they had some more time to themselves. Eleanor was unbelievably optimistic now that she could finally figure out the next step for the two of them. Both Eva and Toby were now present a hell of a lot more too, and that only extended Eleanor's happiness.

The four of them were a bit like a dysfunctional family - at least, that's how she saw it. She was always sure to avoid any topics where she had to use the 'F' word when talking to Mr Todd. He certainly wouldn't entertain that idea - for the moment he was completely focused on  _her_ , and she didn't want to open her big mouth if it meant that it would automatically force them to take a step backwards.

She hadn't brought up  _fatherhood_ either. She realised that the revelation of who Eva Fiori was to him, was likely taking a while to sink in. She knew it must have been hard for him to accept - he'd once despised the girl and had even contemplated slitting her throat at one point, so it was no wonder he never spoke of her to Eleanor again.

He'd seemed a little put out when Eva had taken up Mrs Lovett's offer of a roof over her head, however. Though it wasn't clear whether his disagreement was because he was trying to cover up the guilt he felt towards his own daughter, or because he still loathed the young lad who was still there by her side.

Eleanor had a suspicion that Sweeney was perhaps  _jealous_ of Toby, but it wasn't her place to say anything. After all, she was enjoying all of the attention he had been giving her those past few days.

They'd managed to spend a lot more time together now that Toby paraded around the courtyard in a cheery manner each night, whilst Eva manned the trays from the bake-house, or helped out the lad wherever she could.

It was an  _enormous_ risk having her tending the tables. Every night had been a challenge for her so far. Seeing all those desperate fingers ripping into hot pies - pies that she knew were filled with the steaming flesh of a ground up  _human..._  It both horrified her and made her hungry stomach grumble at the same time.

She  _despised_ the fact she had an underlying addiction, and secretly hoped that observing cannibalism from the sidelines would slowly twist her mindset. She was more than aware that she didn't need to eat her own kind, yet her appetite was increasing with every second she served Mrs Lovett's customers in the courtyard. Her eyes would cloud over with envy as she glared at them, but she always kept her mouth shut and went about wiping down the surfaces, or removing the benches of clutter.

It was just fortunate that Mrs Lovett was usually out there with her - Eleanor was still fairly cautious of the girl, and more often than not, had managed to snap her out of her greedy fascination. The baker would whisper to her or fashion some important job for her to do, and that usually did the trick.

The saddest part of Miss Fiori aiding the baker, was that Toby Ragg seemed none the wiser to how truly deranged and  _deadly_  Eva was.

He too did his fair share for the baker - he was the friendly face that first seated each customer, and ironically, the one in charge of ensuring every tumbler was filled with gin.

Every night had been fairly bearable so far, with no hassle from anyone whatsoever.

That was, until one particular night.

A night in which cages were finally  _rattled._

It was mid-week, and the pie shop was buzzing as usual. Toby was grinning inanely and dressed smartly, dashing between tables, completing the tasks that he'd been set. The lad was in his  _element._

Eva, on the other hand, looked rather sullen. Her eyes were locked onto Mrs Lovett, who was once again bustling herself upstairs to see Mr Todd. She quickly averted her gaze so that she was focused on the cloth in her hands, peering down at her oil-stained fingernails like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

She let out a huff and discarded the sodden cloth by resting it over her shoulder, occupying her hands with the jumble of mess on the table.

She had a neutral expression on her face, but inevitably, her tired grey eyes gave away that she was still lost in her thoughts - perhaps it was a trait she'd gotten from her father.

It really wouldn't have surprised her.

She was slowly stacking up soiled plates into precise piles - her tendency for neatness was causing the job of clearing a few tables to take a considerably  _longer_ amount of time than it should have.

Once she had finished, she collected up a couple of stray spreading-knives. No one had any use for forks since the majority of customers preferred grabbing fistfuls of their crumbly pies in order to shovel it into their mouths as fast as they could. Even  _Eva_ found their table manners to be distasteful.

Their blatant cannibalism that night was like they were  _flaunting_ it right in front of her...

 _Look what_ we  _can do in public that you_ can't.

She would have surely given in then and there had she not reminded herself of the consequences. After all, they were  _catastrophic_ \- she would lose all sense of her quiet observation and instead, pure  _rage_ would take hold of her, sending her into a manic  _frenzy_ where she wouldn't stop until someone was either hurt, or undeniably  _deceased._

She was better than that now. Admittedly, she had her  _uses_ for such anger, but she certainly didn't want to feel herself  _fuming_ when she had no reason to be.

Before she became obsessed with the rows of gobbling mouths again, Toby cut across her path, causing her to shake herself out of her mind. As he passed by, her brow creased into a frown as her eyes followed the direction that the lad had come from.

There was a smaller table near one of the gaps in the courtyard's fencing, where three shifty-looking individuals were seated. They all appeared  _bored,_ at least, that's what Eva gathered from their finger drumming and slumped shoulders.

Their heads were shaven like they were attempting to look like they were all  _related_ , or perhaps in some sort of  _gang._ Their faces were rugged and their jaws were strong in an intimidating sort of way, though the skinnier of the three was so obviously  _nervous_ from the way that he kept shifting about over the bench he was sat upon.

They couldn't fool her though. She knew  _exactly_ who they were. Their presence at Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, however, was  _not_ something that she'd anticipated.

She decided that it was best to avoid them, for  _their_ sake rather than her  _own._ The dishevelled men were a problem that she could do without - everything had been quite  _calm_ for once on the cobbles of Fleet Street, and she desired it to remain that way.

Before she had time to avert her eyes from the small group of men, the sterner of the three cast his cold eyes over to meet her gaze. He smirked knowingly, motioning with a reverse-nod of his head that he wished for her to approach him.

Knowing that it would look suspicious to just stand there and ignore him, she kept up appearances and begrudgingly advanced towards the men, a dour expression on her shadowed features. Internally she was already ticked off - how  _dare_ they show themselves there.

After the Judge's party they ought to be  _ashamed_ of themselves. They'd gotten off lightly. If she'd had more time that night they would have been mince-meat a long, long time ago.

They  _disgusted_ her. What they had been hired to do was  _incomprehensible_ \- it was just lucky that Miss Fiori had been there to hinder their actions.

She was  _dreading_ having to recount that night to Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett. She knew that she would  _have to_ at some point, she was still suffering the backlash from her injuries and reliving that hellish evening through her crooked nightmares.

Eventually, she reached the table of men, her eyes very much unimpressed as she peered at them beneath the shade of her hat's brim.

 _"There_ you are, m'lovely." the one who'd summoned her spoke, draping his arm over the fence to his right like he was attempting to act  _casual._ "Me and me boys 'aven't seen you's for a while."

Eva stood straight-backed with her arms firmly by her sides, not even blinking in response. They really weren't worth her time. Her presence was for appearance sake only... once she'd been there a few seconds, she planned on moving on.

"Wot's  _wrong,_ Miss Fiori?" one of the other men asked in a patronising voice, leaning across the table towards the colder-looking male who had initiated the conversation. "Cat's got ya tongue, 'as it?"

The two who had spoken started heartily laughing like the comment was the most  _hilarious_ thing in the world, whereas the silent one continued to tremble in the corner, burying his head in a cage of his arms.

Eva was still silent, her grey eyes devoid of any flicker of emotion as the laughter quickly subsided. Apparently, they had expected her to  _react_ because they suddenly appeared to be slightly  _disappointed_ with serious expressions on their faces.

"The ol' boss wants 'nother favour." the first one said flatly, tilting his chin up towards her in some sort of defiance. "We's got the money t'give ya, as always. All 'e wants is ya word."

Internally the man's proposition forced her to grow angry and she gritted the back of her teeth, but she did well to keep her expression unreadable.

She was internally insulted that they were even  _attempting_ to interact with her - she was just thankful that Mrs Lovett wasn't about to witness the scene. There was no need to drag Eleanor into this as well.

"This is not the time, nor the place, gentlemen." Miss Fiori said gently, in the calmest tone possible. "I'm going to say this once,  _kindly._ You are permitted to stay so long as you buy a pie, if you do not, I'm afraid I'll have to eject you all from the premises."

The two men burst out into raucous laughter again, exchanging glances as if the young woman was completely off her rocker. However, the shivering man in the corner let out a frustrated whimper like he knew better than the other two.

"Wot's gotten into you, Miss Fiori?" the first one asked sincerely, taking lead of the conversation now that the other two had simmered down to observe the exchange in shy astonishment. "You were always willin' to 'elp out our employer. You tryin' to make enemies'a us or summin'?"

 _"Of course not."_ she replied shortly in a bitter tone, the sharp edge to her consonants causing the timid man to cower in fear. "I don't have to try at all. Your  _employer_ and the likes of  _you_ have always been my enemy. You've just been biding your time to stab me in the back. As if on cue, here's your opportune moment."

"Stupid  _woman."_ the second one suddenly spat, slamming a clenched fist onto the table - the trembling wreck in the corner jumped as a consequence.

"You owe a  _debt,_ Miss Fiori. So I  _need_ a damn  _favour."_ the first insisted, his tone darkening as he leaned away from the fence to sit up straight.

_Eva had finally reached the end of her tether._

She slammed her clenched fists down on the table, and the men were struck with a gut-wrenching silence, eyes wide with intrigued surprise - they hadn't expected her blatant irritation. She then released the dirty knives she'd still been holding onto from her claw-like clutches. They scattered across the surface of the table loudly, though she caught hold of the nearest one to her right hand before it managed to escape out of her reach.

The most terrified of the three dropped his arms away from his face, his bottom lip trembling. He suddenly wished he hadn't as he watched in horror...

Eva, emotionless yet determined, leaned forwards and down-turned the table-knife that she'd snatched up, her small hand gripping around the handle with ease as she punched its length into the chattiest man's left hand. An ear-splitting howl sounded out as the man's skin cracked, blood dribbling down to coat his bruised knuckles.

"That's what I say to your  _damn favour."_ she finally replied composedly, her voice only just above a whisper. "As far as I'm concerned I'm in debt to  _no one,_ least of all to  _your employer,_ do you understand? I am never again disposing of the trail of bodies that  _your kind_ leave behind everywhere you go. Your  _employer_ is a crook, a fiend, and most definitely  _a liar._  He has no values, nor a suffice reason to be as such. I have no reason to assist you. And the boys here with you? They're not going to persuade me otherwise."

He squirmed uncontrollably as she said this, gritting his teeth and letting out a feeble whimper when her sooty hand added more pressure to the end of the table knife - her actions caused the blunt blade to slash through the viscera just below his knuckles.

The scared man in the corner actually appeared to refrain himself from gagging at the nasty sight of his associate's hand... It was ironic that a violent thug couldn't stand the sight of his friend's blood.

"I-I'm s-s - " the leader of the three attempted to phrase out, but he just ended up grimacing in pain again.

"You're  _sorry?_ I'm sure you are now that I've severed your tendons."

He yelled out in uncomfortable agony again, tears springing out of his pleading eyes.

"Go on, yell even  _louder_ so it reaches a few miles further down the street. These customers wouldn't give a damn if you'd been  _decapitated_ right before their very eyes. They're practically  _catatonic,_ Mr Skelly."

"Y-You're g-gonna regret this!" he wheezed out, hazel eyes bulging as the shock of pain waved through him.

"No, I think  _you're_  going to regret trying to blackmail me into doing your employer's bidding. Do you wish to be  _eaten,_ Mr Skelly?"

"W-Wait t-til I get my 'ands on ya, bloody bi - "

_"Well..._

... you can't exactly do anything like  _that_ now that you're pinned to this table,  _can you?"_

And with that, she smirked wickedly, tipping her hat to him like she was bidding him farewell. She made to turn away from them, but paused before she did.

_"Do send your employer my regards."_

With that last whisper, she swivelled around, completely collected like nothing had even occurred. And then she left the three men, who were frantically trying to pull the sword out of the stone - the stone being their associate's  _hand,_ of course...

She certainly seemed to have all of her problems  _in order_ this evening.

* * *

Callous fingers scrambled to turn the barber shop's sign to closed, nails leaving tiny scratches across the glass panels of the door as they tried to find the edge of their precious sign. Eventually, after much effort, the sign was flipped to  _'closed',_ finally ensuring their privacy.

The tense fingers continued to shake in anticipation as they attempted to drop down the latch. This time they grew impatient and yanked it down as soon as they caught hold of it, the door's latch dropping down in order to lock with a satisfying  _clunk._

Eleanor pushed herself into Sweeney desperately, their lips still violently fighting as he allowed her to brush herself against him. Her actions caused him to moan out into her mouth and slam himself back into the door with her still clinging to him, the bell lightly tinkling from such force. It wasn't just  _him_ that was fierce and unrelenting now...  _she_ couldn't quite get enough of him, and longed to frantically grasp onto every single  _fraction_ of his being.

Ever since their night of passionate love-making when Mr Todd's vengeance had drawn to a close, the two of them hadn't been able to keep their hands off of one another. They'd already spent the three days afterwards skulking around during their working hours, all to ensure that no one spotted their unkempt appearance, or their rose-flushed cheeks.

However, finding a way of getting to one another in the first place, was another matter  _entirely._ It was always tremendously  _easy_ \- one of them would always find some plausible excuse to visit the other's premises...

Mrs Lovett would often tell her customers that Mr Todd's rent was due, or even that he required her assistance because there was some panickety problem with his room. In all honesty, the last excuse  _was_ technically  _true..._ the problem he always had with it was that  _she_ wasn't  _inside it_ whenever he wished her to be.

Mr Todd would always insist that Mrs Lovett had a  _damned faulty oven_ should he ever be approached by an eager client, he was never very  _polite_ about the whole excuse because he was often desperate to run downstairs and snatch his enticing baker into his tight embrace. He rarely ever decided to change his justification unless it was  _absolutely_ necessary.

The customers were none the wiser to the couple's brief but fervid trysts, yet Eva had caught on fairly early on. She was rather  _indifferent_ about the two of them together - she was glad they had one another and would rather they were away from the eyes of the public. As long as the two of them weren't causing too much suspicion, she had no thoughts on the matter.

"Could at least'a waited 'til I  _closed up shop,_ Mr T." Eleanor murmured against Sweeney's lips, her hands tugging at the cloth tethers hanging around his collar.

He gruffly growled in response, firmly shoving her off his body with his palms. She appeared to be quite shocked at his violent push because her eyes were slightly fearful, but he soon redeemed himself by attacking her mouth again, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I don't  _wait,_ Eleanor." he grumbled in a threatening tone as they briefly parted mouths. "I haven't the time to  _wait."_

 _"I - thought you - would've realised that - by now, pet."_ he hurriedly added in a hiss, his actions stunting his flow of speech as he leaned forwards forcefully - her body and mind obeyed his strong hold on her and she allowed herself to take wobbly steps backwards.

It was clear that he was directing her towards his barber chair, and she expelled a whimper of delight, too overwhelmed with how focused he was on having her again.

_The man never seemed to tire of her._

It was quite amusing to think that a few months prior, he'd been  _scolding_ himself for even  _regarding_ Eleanor Lovett as attractive,  _scolding_ himself for allowing a  _split-second_ of his time to be spent on thinking about her...

_And there he was a few months later._

His arms were coiled around her tightly as he lifted her a few inches off the floor, causing her to laugh out excitedly. She hadn't expected such an action from him and threw her head back, auburn strands of hair creeping their way out of her pins. He hummed lowly in appreciation of the sight of her and hoisted her up further. She giggled loudly as a consequence and he couldn't resist a smirk smearing across his mouth.

Her legs curled around his abdomen, her skirts folding with ease as he hugged her to him. Even though his actions were incredibly arousing, Eleanor knew that it was only so that he could carry her the rest of the way across the room, to sit her down in his bloodied throne.

"I've not even 'ad chance to clean the chair." he admitted hoarsely as he lowered her down onto the padded cushion, already administering his attack on the tender skin of her neck.

She didn't delay in moaning out, her hands snatching fistfuls of his thin shirt to keep herself from falling forwards.

 _"It don't bother me, love."_ she breathed out, closing her eyes as he skimmed his lips up the length of her neck, then followed the shape of her jawline until he couldn't resist kissing her parted lips again. As their slow and carefully conducted kiss played out, Eleanor's grip on his shirt loosened and she sunk back into the blood-stained clutches of the barber chair.

Sweeney placed his elbows onto the arms of his chair, now finding it easier to orchestrate his maneuvres as their actions became more passionate. She was already obnoxiously loud and that only drove him to groan back in response.

He smirked into their kiss once her hands found their way on his neck ties once again. He soon felt the tension ease around his collar and he hummed against her mouth with slight relief.

Eleanor threw the material across the room and pulled at each of his shirt's buttons, blindly popping them out of each hole as their kiss grew hungrier, their breaths escaping now and then. Once his shirt parted like curtains, she made no delay in pushing her flat palms against the warm skin of his stomach. The tightness of his braces caused him to hold himself straight to which his muscles gently stretched beneath her fingertips.

He leaned towards her touch, finding his position rather restrictive seeing as he couldn't knead her with his hands. He wanted to feel  _all_ of her. His tainted blood boiled with searing lust, his teeth nipping her bottom lip when he backed away to stand before her. She wore a look of rejection - she already missed his eager lips upon her own.

Her feeling of abandonment soon morphed into excitement as he snarled in frustration, tearing himself out of his shirt like he was going through some sort of monstrous transformation. His absurd loss of rationality made her slightly faint - she wondered whether she'd ever stop lusting after the man, but not even his ever-present insanity had stopped her so far.

He exhaled each of his breaths heavily, like he was suddenly struggling to breathe. He then launched himself onto her, arms holding his body up as his palms clenched around the arms of the chair with ease. She whimpered in confused pleasure as he firmly grazed his teeth over the thick skin of her neck, sending fiery waves of sensation through her.

He growled again, her skin still between his teeth. He was verging on sexual  _desperation_ , it seemed. Then again, so was _she._

He raised himself slightly so that he could suck on her skin, but once again, his actions were harsh and ambitious and all Eleanor could do was push out a low moan. Such an unusually animalistic noise coming from her finally sent him  _raving._

Sweeney pushed himself up with the strength of his arms, panting harder than was necessary - it was obvious his lack of air was because she'd worked him up so much. The intensity of his black eyes gave away that he was  _fantasising_  about her already, the way they hungrily raked over her without any ounce of discretion... she couldn't help closing her eyes in pleasurable anticipation as she tossed her head back, exposing her throat to him.

The sight of her in his barber chair, acting so  _ironic_ and exquisitely  _daring... it made him feel so alive._  He couldn't fathom how he hadn't passed out from all the desire pulsing through him. His lust felt stronger than ever on this particular occasion.

"I am  _sick - "_

Between his venomous drawl, he practically  _ripped_ through her first layer of dress, the vibration of the torn fabric rippling through her undergarments to reach her skin beneath.

" - of  _waiting."_

She gasped as the material was stripped away from her, his arms trapping her close to him. He then lifted her up again, carrying her across the length of his parlour. She was limp... she would allow him to do whatever he wished to do to her.

He sped up as he reached the farthest wall, which was rather mistreated with the peeling striped-paper and the web of spindling cracks -  _which were likely there due to all of the tantrums he'd had._ From how violent he was with her, hurtling them towards the wall - it wouldn't have been surprising if another crack was about to form.

She winced from both satisfaction and discomfort as her spine slammed against solid brick and plaster, his mouth smothering her before she could complain about his temperament. Their mouths battled wildly and their hands clutched at each others bodies, uncontrollably exploring each part of their lover. They were firm and fierce together, the heat exchanged between them growing hotter and faster with each movement they made.

Sweeney took his mouth from her for a second, the two of them catching their breath as their chests heaved with effort. Eleanor closed her eyes, too content to keep a close eye on him. He brought his head down so that his mouth was directly next to the side of her face, his nose nestling in the tangled knots of her auburn hair.

"All this time we've spent together an' you 'aven't even told me what's next for us." he whispered against her ear, his hot breath causing her to sigh highly.

She frowned in confusion when she considered his words. She hardly thought that the opportune time to talk about their future was  _right then,_ when her head was reeling in near-bliss and he was fairly keen on deeply thrusting himself into her.

But at the same time... it was utterly  _perfect._

She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes, even when she heard the sound of his belt buckle snapping open... his silence told her that he was still waiting for her to respond. And from the warmth directly in front of her, she knew he was staring at her intently, with his spell-inducing black eyes.

"I-I want us to leave 'ere." she finally whispered out, a brief smile gracing her lips when she heard the dense slap of his leather belt as it smacked against the floorboards. She still didn't want to open her eyes, she was already pleasantly shivering from his proximity - and she was fairly frightened of what carnal madness she would succumb to, should she open her eyes.

 _"And what else?"_ he breathed closely to her, lips skimming over her own. She knitted her brows in thought, then again, it was also from temptation now that she felt the fabric of her bloomers slowly sliding down her thighs.

 _"I want us to live by the sea."_ she replied with slight sadness, like she lacked confidence in her own dreams. He was quiet as his fingers lightly tugged at the hem of her bloomers again, not pausing his actions until the material pooled around her boots. She felt almost  _depressed_ now that he'd reminded her of the perfect life that she knew she was unlikely to ever have.

But he was gradually wearing her disappointment down now that his thumbs stroked up from her knees, only stopping when they could firmly knead into the inner flesh of her thighs.

"Then do yourself a favour, Nell." he said in a single breath, lightly pushing himself towards her so that she was securely in place against the wall.  _"Imagine that that's where we are now."_

Her brown eyes were wide as she instantly flashed them open. They met with the intoxicating sight of him and when she realised he was just as lost in their intimacy as much as she was, she realised that what he'd said was  _certainly_  no  _joke._

She nodded nonchalantly just before their lips met again, their eyes drooping shut as the rest of his digits clenched around her thighs, gradually pushing her legs apart. He inhaled sharply, their lips still braying together as her hands slid to stop across his bare shoulder blades.

Their lust-filled dynamic seemed to shift slightly once he pushed himself inside her. Although they still felt an urgency to fulfil their wanton desires, their adoration for each other seemed to overwhelm them entirely.

Their deep moans were muffled as they continued to press their lips together. Their hard kisses were only making it harder to expel their noises of appreciation but both of them were too stubborn to tear away from each other. With every thrust into her and every push of her hips, their kisses became louder and breathier.

It wasn't long before they finally pulled their mouths away from one another, groaning and grunting out as an array of pleasurable emotions and sensations washed over them.

She loved how he held her firmly in place with his skillful hands, wearing a dreamy expression of sexual concentration on his face. When she opened her eyes, she could see how much he adored having control of the situation. If she was honest, she was slightly  _irritated_ by his proud dominance.

But he soon changed her mind when he opened his eyes too, staring into her soul deeply. He truly acknowledged her brilliance with those black eyes, truly displayed his skeleton of secret admiration. What she saw in his gaze was such a mix of emotions that she found herself becoming enthralled in him.

He engulfed her senses - the feel of him within her, the smell of his cologne, the sight of his entrancing eyes, the taste of his mouth...

She could still feel those lips giving her ghost kisses, the warmth he'd left on her swollen lips made her part her mouth into a gape of amazement. Her back slid up the wall every time he pushed himself into her, and their eyes were still locked together as they explored the yearning they both felt.

In her head, Mrs Lovett was telling herself that they weren't in his shop, just as he'd tempted her to do. As soon as she doted over the ridiculous thought of them making love in her dream setting, it suddenly made their intimacy  _far_  more powerful.

Every time he grazed his lips across her mouth, every time he thrust that little bit harder, every time his hands squeezed a tad too roughly around her thighs...

She groaned out even louder, the back of her skull resting against the wall behind her.

They both loved their sounds of pleasure, and they still preferred it to any embarrassing attempts at dirty talk. The physicality of how they felt one another was enough for them, they didn't need anything more.

And it was only when his grunts started to raise in volume that she realised he was almost nearing his end. She watched him with wide eyes and her cries of pleasure harmonised with his, both of them enraptured by the lustful affection they passed to each other.

His actions sped up and she could only gasp out highly as a consequence, watching in intrigue as his eyes were filled with audacious elation. He opened his mouth slightly as he pushed out one last harsh groan, his eyebrows wincing as he finally reached completion.

Seeing him completely let himself go, she too, found she had no will to carry on. She spewed out a breathy  _"I love you"_ when she finally finished, chest heaving against his as he stared at her in fascination.

Once the two of them had stopped trembling with ecstasy, Sweeney hummed deeply before pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. Eleanor was apparently so exhausted that she couldn't even find the energy to kiss him back - he'd managed to outdo himself, it seemed.

It wasn't long before he sensed her fatigue and he chuckled against her lips, moving his arms up, one by one. Her legs automatically clung around his waist in a humid hug, and his arms wrapped around her neck to pull her into a heaving embrace.

"For a minute there I thought we'd left 'is place." she admitted in an absent-minded tone, lowering her head so that she could whisper right next to his ear.

He smirked in amusement, burying his nose in her even messier hair. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes as he found himself forgetting about the dark world around them for the time being... instead, he was lost to the woman he clung onto. So lost that his deep feelings began to take him over and control him completely.

_"So did I."_


	38. Cream Horns and Constables

Swaying meadows of lilac, smog-less skies that were painted a beautifully soft grey, ripples across deep green pond water, gleaming webs that were still coated in white from the frost that morning...

It was hard to believe that such an ethereal place was situated in  _London..._

... given that there was neither a smoking chimney stack or meat pie in sight.

Mrs Lovett had wanted to take Mr Todd to Hampstead Heath for quite sometime. And after a rather hefty amount of persuasion, he had begrudgingly accepted that he would join her that Sunday afternoon.

For a Londoner, a trip on the Heath was the closest thing to a countryside outing - it was clear that many went there just so that they didn't have to inhale all that dreadful smoke all of the time, the air was so much  _purer_ there.

It was no wonder that Eleanor Lovett felt so giddy - she was finally able to breathe  _real air._

The two of them had set down a picnic blanket (which looked like an old rug that Eleanor had salvaged from some rubble) beneath a tree which was located quite far from the popular areas of the grounds. Eleanor had been adamant that they  _had_ to sit beneath a tree, in hopes it would create some shade. Mr Todd was a little confused why she'd insisted on venturing out on a fairly pleasant day in late winter, only to block the sun out altogether.

Apparently, he was completely unaware of her profound motives. He hadn't even considered that her persistence was perhaps because she was acting out one of the daydreams she'd had about the two of them.

He perched down next to her none-the-less, crossing his legs over like a small child who had been left in anticipation during story-time. He looked completely out of place sat next to the cheery baker, who was going on about something or other as she beamed an enormous smile at him.

His gloomy demeanour had returned because he felt  _ridiculous._ He daren't move - he was surrounded by a mine-field of _plates._ There were tea-cakes, scones, all sorts of sugar-based tarts and  _countless_ plates of other sweet foods that had some sort of dark gooey jams on the side... in fact, he eventually closed his eyes because he couldn't bring himself to see what else she'd made for the two of them.

There were so many damned plates that he hadn't even been able to see the pattern of the rug anymore. He didn't know why she fussed over him so much. He certainly wasn't much of an eater... after a few months of watching half of London devour the other half through Eleanor's meat pies - it was  _more_ than enough to shrink his stomach.

"Did we  _really_ need this much bloody  _food?"_ he grumbled shortly, sat up stiffly like his muscles didn't know the meaning of the word  _relax._ She appeared to be silently taken aback by his abrupt interruption and sighed anxiously when he picked up a cream-filled pastry which was on the nearest plate beside him. He brought it up, right before his eyes so that he could inspect it like it was some sort of heinous  _crime-scene._

"Better to 'ave lots, than none at all. An' wot ya complainin' for? You's already got yer 'ands on that cream 'orn I made, so stop bein' a  _hypocrite_." she shot back with a knowing smirk, studying the blue and white stripes that decorated the pale fabric of her skirts.

He was  _raring_ to argue his point, but he bit back his urge to scold her. The two of them were still attempting to keep a low profile, after all - they were still overly careful about appearing like every-day Victorian  _friends..._

And  _that_ was going ever so  _successfully._

He narrowed his eyes towards her, and like she knew he was doing so, she lifted her shimmering gaze to face him. She bit into a smile as he brought the sweet pastry up to his lips, not delaying in taking a competitive bite out of it -  _that would show her._ Cream oozed out through the cracks in the golden crust and coated his lips as he reluctantly took the food from his mouth to set it back down onto the plate. Secretly, he'd rather enjoyed the taste of what she'd made.

But her baking breakthrough wasn't enough to crack his mask of seriousness.

He pretended to look through her completely, but she knew better. His veil of coldness hardly ever worked on her now that the two of them were a couple... she'd grown wise to his devious tricks.

She leaned towards him, wearing a silly smile as her brown eyes lingered on his lips. He frowned in confusion, and that's when his pretence fell away, giving way to his guilty curiosity.

"What? What is it?" he asked in feigned worry, and she only leaned closer, flinging her hands up to her face so that she could cover her mouth up with her palms. She truly reminded him of a mischievous little girl in that moment, one that was afraid of getting caught  _laughing._

 _"What?!"_ he repeated in an annoyed tone, and her hands immediately fell away from her face, revealing an amused grin.

"Nothin'... just thought that ya might as well finish what ya started, love." she teased as she breathed out shortly, like she was still attempting to hold back her laughter.

She knew that if she was to let go and laugh herself silly, it would certainly cause a  _scene._ She couldn't risk drawing attention to them both, she had no idea who was nearby.

 _Mr Todd's actions,_ however, were proving that it was difficult to keep their true feelings from view.

 _"Fine_. I shall finish it." he eventually replied stubbornly, not taking his eyes away from her, even when he reached down for the cream horn - which now had an imprint of his teeth from where he'd taken a chunk out of it. His expression of determination was unbelievably hilarious as he scoffed some more of the sweet pastry down. He appeared to be a lot more keen this time, but his gaze never tore away from her, and that only made her want to erupt into a fit of laughter.

Once he'd devoured three-quarters of the pastry without any hesitation, he soon forgot all about proving a point to his accomplice and gave into his true feelings. He briefly closed his eyes and hummed out in appreciation, finally succumbing to the last of the food that he still held between his fingers.

Eleanor had to cover her mouth again, stifling back her laugh. She couldn't  _believe_ what she was seeing - she was partially gushing that he was enjoying her food so much, but she was mostly surprised by his eagerness towards their day out. She'd anticipated his stoic-self accompanying her that day, so she was internally  _thrilled_ that she'd managed to bring out the playful side in him.

Once he'd finally finished, he licked the pads of his fingertips, ensuring every last bit of flavour was savoured. She wondered if he realised how funny he looked - he was clearly  _clueless_ to the fact he had a small moustache of cream above his top lip. He opened his eyes and gave her a puzzled frown, noticing that she had her buoyant eyes on his mouth.

"What? What is it now?"

She couldn't help it... she unleashed a dirty chuckle and she toppled backwards as her amusement took over her body, though she bit her lip to try and stop her laughs from getting any louder. His scowl deepened in confusion and he prowled over her, arms tensing either side of her shoulders to hold himself over her.

The lust for her had already started to boil within his intense eyes, just as unrelenting as it had been before. Perhaps it was because they were in such an open setting - anyone could've been watching the two of them and that was incredibly new to them both.

He soon found himself acting on a whim and smothered her alluring chuckles by pushing his lips to hers, already groaning out in satisfaction. She practically  _fainted_ beneath him in response, overwhelmed by his enthusiasm to display his affection for her in public... not to mention the flavour of his lips which took on the vanilla taste from the cream filling that he'd just eaten.

She whimpered when she finally pushed her mouth to be in time with his, her arms stroking up the front of his torso to settle around his neck. She pulled him downwards so he could kiss harder, to which they both moaned out in response.

As they parted lips briefly for air, the sounds of the calming breeze which rustled tree leaves and skimmed over the top layer of pond water, were soon interrupted entirely. A familiar laugh chirped out, growing louder and louder now that it approached the two of them.

It was then, that a now very  _annoyed_ Sweeney, cracked open his eyes and lightly pushed Eleanor away.

"You didn't tell me that  _they_ were invited." he whispered, sending a side-ways glance to an advancing Toby, who was smiling broadly.

Eva was giving the young lad a piggy-back, attempting to wear a mask of boredom, but her grey eyes were certainly laughing along with the boy too. She span around in circles in hopes that he'd get dizzy and want a rest from all the childish fooling around - but his giggles only got louder. He gripped one of his hands around the back of her tailcoat for dear life, yet the other extended up into the air in a small wave of playful celebration.

"Thought I may as well 'ave 'em 'ere too. I mean, let's be 'onest, Mr T. They're practically family now." Eleanor murmured with a smile, her eyes focused on the two youngsters messing around in amongst the meadow grass - but it was clear from how her eyelids hooded down that she was still lost in the man beside her.

He leaned himself towards her, extending out one of his arms behind her to keep him upright. He rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes narrowed in deep thought.

She realised that she'd perhaps overstepped the mark... the word ' _family'_ had accidentally slipped through her mouth before she had a chance to stop herself.

It was clear that he was considering her words from his silence and the way he appeared to fade out of reality for a moment. At first, she was tempted to roll her eyes at him for being typically  _him..._ but he took her by surprise by saying something before she could.

"Hm, per'aps you're right."

Neither of them spoke anything more on the matter and before long, they settled down with each other's company again.

The two of them laid over their picnic blanket, finally at ease. Her head rested against his rising and falling chest and her eyes were cracked open as he stroked her auburn hair backwards so that he could study her entire face. The two of the them were completely quiet, apart from the occasional chuckles of amusement Eleanor let out from watching Toby and Eva play over the grassland nearby.

Sweeney would sometimes squeeze his arms a little bit tighter around her, or even drop a kiss to her forehead. She would always sigh out, but she had a feeling he had no idea what effect his actions had on her - her love for him engulfed her entirely, and the serenity of the moment was near  _perfect_ for her.

They stayed like that for quite some time, enjoying the slight peace they had together. The two of them could never recall feeling as let-loose as they were then, they almost didn't have a care in the world. They would have killed to have this feeling of calm every minute of every hour, every hour of every day.

Sweeney's eyes soon drifted over to follow her line of sight, which was still softly on Toby and Eva - who were still amusingly messing around. He wore a stern expression as his black eyes rested on his daughter, and it was clear that something inside him was suddenly undeniably  _sad._

" 'Ow can she be such a  _monstrosity,_ but so good with... " he trailed off as he watched the two youngsters, closing his eyes as Eleanor twisted herself around to stare at him with her big brown eyes. She winced when she realised that he probably wished he could be like his daughter - the poor man just didn't know where to start.

"C'mon now, love." she whispered in an optimistic tone, cupping his chin in her hands as she shuffled herself over him so that she could sit and stare at him directly. "She's off 'er rocker, so its no wonder she 'as strange tendencies. Then 'gain, per'aps 'er temperament is summin' she's gotten from you... I dunno, Mr T. Y'always just so miserable all'a the time, an' y'can't change if ya sat 'ere bein'  _miserable_ 'bout it."

 _"I'll always be miserable."_ he grumbled adamantly, his eyes cracking open with a glint of amusement yet no smirk appeared on his lips. She noticed he avoided acknowledging her joke about his temper, and couldn't help feeling slightly victorious.

She snorted a laugh, studying the humour in his eyes.

"There's nothin' stoppin' ya  _joinin' 'em,_ ya know."

"If they end up play fightin', I'll be first in line to fight that boy." he whispered dangerously as his eyes flashed at her - she knew that dark expression all too well. She'd not seen that intent to murder for quite some time... so she was sick to her stomach seeing it then.

Her eyes widened,  _"Christ,_ Mr T! No need f'that now, is there? 'Ow comes you 'ates 'im so much? 'E's not done anythin' to you."

"Exactly. He's spineless, Eleanor. And I know he talks to you about 'ow  _evil_ I am, the insolent  _snake."_ he taunted in a threatening tone, but she could tell he was messing with her. Apparently the idea of murdering Toby Ragg was some colossal  _joke_ to him.

She suddenly smirked, "Oh  _I_ see now - you scared I might just listen to 'im and leave ya, is that it?"

 _"Scared?_ No. I'd say more  _concerned_ than anythin'."

"Well you oughta be, 'cause you're  _definitely_ the most evil man I've ever met."

Sweeney was unsure whether he felt  _insulted_ or  _proud._

"Thanks very much." he said in a deadpan tone, and she couldn't help unleashing her dirty laugh again. He couldn't hide his own smirk - her humour-filled laughter always seemed to be contagious.

_"Ain't it a good job that I prefer ya that way..."_

* * *

Eva bent her knees so that she could lower Toby onto the ground, smirking to herself when she realised that he was still laughing excitedly. His little feet rustled over the grass which he was squishing down as he ran around her to face her properly - it was clear that he was still eager to play games with her now that they were in a safe place to do so.

"I think we should maybe say a proper  _'hello'_ to Mrs Lovett and Mr Todd, don't you?" she asked in a strangely approachable tone, taking her hat from her head so that she could push stray red hair back beneath her hat's brim.

The lad scratched his messy head of brown hair bashfully, shrugging, "They saw us an' knows we's 'ere so don't see why we 'ave to go say anythin'."

 _"Toby."_ she addressed firmly in a knowing voice, leaning down to press a hand over his shoulder. "You know that you can't avoid Mr Todd forever."

"We  _can._ C'mon let's play! You're  _It!"_ he shouted out gleefully with his arms extended out by his sides like he was using them as wings. He beamed a smile and tore away from her before she could even plan her reply, fully expecting her to chase him.

Eva watched in confused horror as Toby ran further and further into the thick meadow grass, giggling happily. The grass seemed like it was growing taller and taller the further away he ran, and she felt her breath shorten in dread. She was about to yell at him to get him to stop, but her attention was averted when she sensed a swift movement coming from a clearing of trees to her left.

She appeared to be frozen in place, her eyes glazed over with fresh tears as they widened in recognition.

She felt the warmth of anger seize hold of her spine, internally shaking her to awaken her mind , in which painful memories flooded back to her.

She hadn't anticipated laying eyes on the man ever again - he was quite a way away, and was casually stood, nose held high so that he could enjoy the view of the clear sky along with the fresh smell of meadow air.

Eva could feel her breath catching as the tears silently spilled out of her eyes to roll down her cheeks. Each tear was tinted grey due to the salty water mixing in with the soot circling her eyes.

He was  _exactly_ as she'd last seen him - significantly taller than her and significantly more tanned. His dark blonde hair was short and neatly slicked back, matching the trimmed sideburns thinly lining the shape of his jawline. His blue-green eyes flashed with wonder as he peered up at the sky, like he hadn't seen such a natural sight for some time. He had a jovial expression on his face - which would have appeared charming and pleasant to most people...  _but she knew better._

Hate's crooked fingers twisted its grip around her heart, causing her breaths to shorten and stifle her for a moment.

She was  _overwhelmed_ with  _shock_  - she hadn't expected to see him there. She'd promised herself not to let him destroy her again, but she could feel herself disintergrating already.

He looked enchanting from afar, his youthful skin glistening gold beneath the afternoon rays of sunshine. His clothes were drab, yet exquisitely made. He was certainly a man doing well for himself.

She was slightly surprised that he wasn't dead. He hadn't a backbone, let alone a single bone in his body.

Nevertheless, his presence unnerved her to her very core.

Eva shook herself out of her mesmerised state, jump starting into action as she turned and sprinted through the knee-high grass, praying that she would eventually catch up to Toby.

_The man's presence meant they had to leave immediately._

* * *

" 'Was thinkin' we could play a game or summin'!" Toby exclaimed excitedly, both of his little hands snatching hold of Eva's wrists as he pulled her across Fleet Street. The dark couple weren't too far behind, they had their arms linked together as they casually strolled after them, apparently not fussed about what any prying eyes gathered from their actions. Due to the rather pleasant afternoon they'd had, Eleanor was beaming a cheerful smile... Sweeney, on the other hand, was as gloomy as ever and wore an unhelpful mask of  _sulk_ on his face.

They'd listened (or in the barber's opinion,  _suffered)_ the young lad's chatter since late afternoon, and they were hopeful that he'd soon run out of energy. It seemed that their brief day-out to Hampstead Heath had sparked off something in him - something that the lad had never considered properly before...  _family._ Usually he was ever so grateful to anyone that looked after him or helped him out. Yet today, he truly felt like he  _belonged..._ at least, where Miss Fiori and Mrs Lovett were concerned.

Mr Todd had  _distanced_ himself. Not that it had been a surprise to him.

As Toby continued his enthusiastic ramblings and dragged his guardian towards the curb in front of Mrs Lovett's shop door, Eleanor couldn't help the hearty chuckle that bubbled out of her mouth. The lad's insistence with Eva reminded her so much of a younger brother pestering an older sister...

As soon as he'd heard her amusement, Sweeney immediately shot his stern eyes towards her, like he couldn't believe how ridiculous she was acting.

"Don't encourage 'im." he said emptily, which caused her amusement to drop completely, a very unimpressed expression on her face. Without any further delay she let out a huff, averted her eyes from him and slid her arm out of his grip - she was fed up with how  _ungrateful_ he was. He frowned deeply when she bustled after the youngsters, trying to understand why she didn't want to be by his side all of a sudden.

She sped up her pace, swallowing down her disappointment. She really shouldn't have brought up  _family_ with him earlier. He'd really gotten her hopes up.

Apparently it was only so he could  _crush them_ with a lead-lined  _sledgehammer._

Sweeney couldn't help noticing how she still swung the picnic basket to-and-fro in a jovial manner - for some reason this saddened him slightly. He was just being a  _realist,_ he couldn't lie to her and play happy families when he knew that he'd always hate the boy.

When Eva reached Toby's desired destination, he couldn't keep still. He let go of her arms and peered down at his feet, impatiently waiting for the door to be unlocked.

As Eleanor approached them, she couldn't help smiling again, internally melting at the sound of the two of them chatting - to hear Eva talking of something other than  _death_ or  _danger_ was definitely a nice change. She couldn't help noticing how good the girl was when she interacted with Toby, she'd never seen this side of her before.

"Oh c'mon,  _please can we play?_ I gots some new cards!"the lad moaned, glumly staring down at his muddy feet (from all that meadow soil, no doubt). Eleanor had clearly tuned in at a time where the lad was trying to set up another  _game_ of some sort.

 _"New?"_ Eva spoke, seeming very curious all of a sudden. "Let me see."

Eleanor didn't think it was right to interrupt their conversation and smiled at them both before getting on with opening the door.

Toby fished out his small box of playing cards - which was completely  _immaculate,_ there wasn't a single scratch on the box, let alone the cards. The box was fairly grand in appearance - it was a deep shade of oak-brown and lined with a bronze trim, something that was clearly  _hand-made._

The boy handed over a few of his cards from the box, wearing a small proud smile as Eva studied each one closely, grey eyes narrowing in wonder.

"They're not  _new._ Look at how bent they are. Who did you steal them from?" she asked in a concerned tone. Her eyes matched her voice as she studied the top card, which was the  _seven of spades,_ and it almost appeared to  _taunt_ her - then again, the shock of seeing the man from earlier had  _certainly_ shifted her rationality. She really needed to get a grip.

"W-Wot?! I d-din't nick 'em off anybody!"

Eleanor shoved open the door, shooting the boy a look of disappointment - it was so unlike him to do such a thing. Considering Eva's tone, she too thought that stealing was beneath him.

Then again, Eleanor was being a tad bit of a  _hypocrite._

The amount of stuff she'd swiped off of those dead bodies in the bake-house was  _diabolical._

But she didn't expect a good lad like Toby to be doing such a thing, what had possessed him to do so? It was obvious that she was slightly peeved because she practically shoulder-barged the door open, storming in without another moment to spare. She heard the others follow her inside, and she purposely slung the picnic basket down on the counter so it gave out a loud  _thwack._

As the door slammed shut, there was an unsettling silence for a few seconds...

And then Eva's voice spat out sharp words towards the young lad, it was clear she was irritated due to the boy's attitude towards pick-pocketing. She was giving the boy a strict lecture and the baker hadn't got the energy to bother listening.

So instead, Eleanor grabbed the gin bottle from the counter, already sliding a clean tumbler across the floury surface so that she could fill it to the brim. The day had been  _mostly_ pleasant... but why was it that things  _always_ had to have some depressing  _downside?_

_Why couldn't her dreams be her reality for once?_

The bickering between the undertaker and Toby caused her to roll her eyes and as soon as the shot glass was full, she tossed it back, not caring how bad she looked for succumbing to the numbing effects of the alcohol she necked back.

When she began filling her glass up again, the boy pushed past her forcefully, hugging his box of cards to his chest. He scuttled through to the parlour, already quietly mumbling curses to himself.

_The lad really should have known better._

Eva let out a deep sigh, not saying a word when her eyes rested on Mrs Lovett - she too was dying to drink something to calm her nerves, but she knew she couldn't leave Toby on his own. She had to ensure he didn't steal again - after all, any criminal activity whatsoever could jeopardise the freedom of her father and Eleanor. And she couldn't have that.

She watched Eleanor sip down a second shot, ears pricking up when the door opened and then carefully closed. It was obviously Sweeney... the two women wondered what had taken him so long. He was probably lost in his own thoughts, as usual.

As he stepped further into the shop, Eva noticed Eleanor's eyes dart towards him. Her brown irises were dense and hardened, and the undertaker could sense there was an unspoken tension building between the two of them. A tension that she  _really_ did  _not_ want to witness.

Sweeney returned his accomplice's gaze with an empty expression, but it was possible that the man was holding back his true feelings because his fists were clenched by his sides.

"I should really see that the lad's alright." Eva spoke confidently, finally shattering the ominous silence to which the baker briefly acknowledged her with a glance. "Even if he isn't, I'm sure that he'll tire eventually."

Sweeney nodded at her in feigned understanding, and Eleanor shot him a venomous look, her brown eyes stabbing into him as she took another sip from her tumbler.

The barber silently observed her stubborn actions for a few seconds as Eva left the room - the undertaker tipped her hat towards them on her way out, like she was wishing them both good luck. Yet it seemed like her gesture hadn't caught their attention.

Sweeney was completely confused about why Eleanor was necking down shots of gin - it was so unlike her. She only drank like that if  _he'd_  put her up to it...

... in  _jest,_ of course.

The suffocating silence had returned, and was torturing them both. They were  _desperate_ to argue - she'd had it with him leading her along the garden path, and he was sick of her obsession with the four of them being a family unit. As they continued to stare each other down, they soon heard muffled voices coming from the parlour. The two of them were too tired to argue with each other... so they found themselves settling for unintentional  _eavesdropping_ instead.

"W-Where's Mrs Lovett?" they heard Toby ask in tiny voice through a barrage of sniffles. Eleanor could only smirk at Sweeney, given that he hadn't been mentioned. Their mute annoyance was exceptionally childish, but neither barber or baker backed down.

"Oh..." Eva began awkwardly, and from her tone of voice they could tell she was probably  _blushing_. "... she and Mr Todd decided that they wanted to play their own game instead - "

Eleanor and Sweeney frowned at what the girl was inferring, and their hostile eyes softened to ones that were amused and filled with sudden  _tempation..._ Eva certainly hadn't meant  _that_ sort of a game. The baker opened her mouth and placed the rim of the shot glass to her lips, her eyes  _daring_ the demon barber to do something.

"Oh! Let's go an' invite 'em to join our game'a cards. I wanna say that I'm sorry some 'ow - "

Sweeney smirked at the way Eleanor was subtly taunting him and he felt his feet carrying him forwards before he realised what was happening. He was already wandering towards her, eyes drilling into her with passionate determination.

 _"No!_ No." Eva butted in with a shrill tone to her voice, quite obviously afraid of what the dark couple were up to... she honestly just thought they were quietly  _arguing._ "I think they wanted it to just be them two. But... I'll play cards with you."

"That's right  _typical_ of 'er. Ditchin' me for  _Mr T."_

Sweeney's eyes seemed to darken even more after the lad said that, and he raked them up Eleanor's form as he came to a halt right in front of her. He made no hesitation with his movements as he snatched the tumbler out of her hands, loudly slamming it on the counter behind her to solidify his point.

The two of them seemed to forget about their queries entirely as they searched each others eyes, only seeing the intense yearning for each other present. Their hostility had evolved into something else once again.

Eleanor felt compelled to succumb to his unrelenting gaze, already parting her lips so that she could let out heavier breaths. His proximity and the feeling of warmth he gave off was intoxicating her, blinding her sense of rationality. It felt so beautifully wrong lusting after him - she should have been  _angry_ with him for making a fool out of her...

Yet she hadn't given herself enough time to consider refusing him...

Because what seemed like  _seconds_ later, the two of them were closely trapped against one another, pushing their open mouths together in a violent frenzy. Waves of passion shook their bodies and they were already moaning into each others mouths, too overcome with the feeling of each other again.

Eleanor had no clue, but Sweeney had been waiting to tear that dress off her  _all afternoon._ She looked so other-wordly that day, he couldn't quite describe how she made him feel. There was a sort of  _glow_ about her that had made him want to compliment her... but he wasn't exactly a man that knew the right thing to say.

Hands already started to strip away layers of clothing, their mouths too enthralled in kissing to have them part ways. Their apologies could be felt with every brush of fingertips, heard with every deep breath that escaped their tight kisses, seen in the way that their hands caressed each others bodies.

Once Sweeney had successfully removed her top layer, he took a hand away from her to shove some of her baking equipment in order to clear the counter-top behind her. A few implements clattered to the floor and she gasped against his lips, worried that it could have been heard from the parlour...

But her mind was soon back on the man she loved, as he quickly lifted her up so that she could sit herself down on the worktop. Their lips never ceased to work together, even as her hands shrugged his waistcoat down his sleeves... it was soon abandoned across the floor, joining her discarded dress.

Just as their kisses grew fiercer, moans grew harder to conceal and her hands grew more insistent as they reached for his belt buckle, the two of them froze against each other as a light rap sounded out on the glass panes of the shop door.

Their lips gradually parted ways, though their eyes were still burning with desire and completely fixated on one another.

 _"Fuck."_ Sweeney growled lightly, quite clearly sexually frustrated as the knocks on the door became a little more insistent. He glanced back towards the source of the noise, but Eleanor brought a hand up to his chin and steered his head back so that he faced her.

She wanted them to continue.

Hell, so did he.

"I'll 'andle this." he whispered, flicking his eyes over her features like he was attempting to memorise her. "Don't you dare move. I'll deal with you soon enough, understand?"

She bit into her bottom lip, wearing a wicked smile as she nodded eagerly. He carefully backed away from her, narrowing his eyes as he turned towards the shop door - where a shadow was still pounding their knuckles until they were red raw.

It was one thing to call in on a Sunday evening.

Yet it was another thing  _entirely_ to interrupt Sweeney's intimacy with Eleanor.

Hence, as he yanked open the door, he wasn't in the  _best_ of moods. He was slightly surprised to see a young constable stood on Mrs Lovett's doorstep, with a kind-looking face and concern in his light blue eyes. Suddenly the barber was slightly worried that the policeman would notice his dishevelled appearance and catch on to what had just been interrupted... especially given his  _frustrated demeanour._

Mr Todd would have to be extra cautious.

"O-Oh." the constable stumbled in a confused tone, looking rather taken aback... or disorientated. "I 'adn't expected to see  _you_ 'ere, Mr Todd. Have I got the right premises? This  _is_ 186 Fleet Street, is it not?"

"Wot is it you want?" Sweeney drawled, urging the man to cut to the chase. He hadn't the patience to wait for Eleanor any longer, and he didn't care if the young constable thought that his behaviour was rude or inconsiderate. He was sick to death of the damned law interfering with his personal affairs.

"I don't s'pose Mrs Lovett is aroun - "

"No, she's unable to come to the door at the moment." he said vacantly, his tone disinterested though his eyes scorched the constable, searing through the man's skin. His gaze even caused the man's  _skeleton_ to tremble.

"Very well." the policeman said, swallowing down his feeling of discomfort. "My apologies for my presence at such a late time. I thought I'd drop by seein' as we 'ad a tip off yesterday, sir. Somethin' concernin' a woman workin' at this premises. Apparently attacked a man, sir."

He frowned, suddenly setting aside his lust for a moment.

_Eleanor? Eleanor had attacked someone?!_

"I don't quite follow."

"A man 'as lost the use of his left 'and, Mr Todd. 'E was stabbed with a knife and it severed all of 'is nerves. We 'ave reason t'believe the attack took place at this premises, and one witness spoke of a young woman workin' 'ere who may 'ave been the assailant."

 _Young_  woman? Oh, now he caught on entirely. But he was still baffled why he didn't know of this - if it was  _true,_ of course.

 _"Young woman?_ Do you mean Miss Fiori?"

"F-Fiori?  _M-Miss F-Fiori?!"_ the policeman suddenly stuttered, actually taking a step backwards like an invisible force had pushed him to do so.

There was a brief pause, and Sweeney wore a bewildered expression. The man stood in front of him looked like he'd seen a  _ghost..._ it was undoubtedly  _fear_ that had struck the young constable.

Sweeney's frown deepened and he opened his mouth to question him about the alleged attack...

But the policeman soon beat his voice-box to it.

"I-I think there's been some sort of  _mistake,_ sir.  _I shall not bother you again."_ the law-man whispered, blue eyes suddenly darting all over like he expected a monster to jump out at him from the impending darkness.

_"Forget I ever told you about this attack..._

_... and for 'eaven's sake, I beg you not to mention that I was ever 'ere. There's clearly been a misunderstanding."_

With that, the constable rushed off, tripping over a few cobbles as he sprinted away as fast as he could.

_Sweeney Todd would never understand what went around the heads belonging to those that were in control of the law._

He still frowned as he absent-mindedly closed the door, his brain overloaded with new questions... but he couldn't say he had any particular  _worries._ Seeing as the constable had been  _quaking_ in his boots, burdens seemed to be  _non-existent_ in Sweeney's eyes.

As soon as he turned and raised his gaze onto Eleanor Lovett once again, he was deeply lost to her enchanting allure.

"Who was it?" she murmured, parting her legs rather wickedly as she confidently leaned back so that her arms extended out over the floury worktop.

He smirked at her, already feeling his legs stalking towards her. His eyes flickered with tempestuous desire, and it was obvious that he was thinking of physically persuading her to forget about their brief interruption.

"I think it's best that you stay quiet, pet,  _don't you?"_


	39. Revelations over a Tipple... or Two

As Eva went about her usual route from her undisclosed underground abode to 186 Fleet Street, she had anticipated a rather brisk but  _burden-less_ stroll.

Instead, as she cut through the habitual dank alleys and thin lanes, she was unbelievably  _unnerved._

_Posters._

They were  _everywhere,_ ignorantly plastered over any bit of brick wall that had any space to spare. They were especially prominent over the walls in the surrounding area as she approached  _Fleet Street,_ and that was practically a declaration of  _war_ to Eva Fiori.

The undertaker was internally absolutely  _livid_ when she'd spotted the first one, which had been confidently pasted up without a single crease in sight.

_Mrs Mooney's Meat Pies: The Finest In All of London_

It was a blatant  _rip-off_ of Mrs Lovett's advertisements from not so long ago - only the slogans had been altered slightly so that they were more  _crass_ and  _crude._ The sayings were purposely controversial to draw curious onlookers' gazes, even those who were  _repelled_ by such daring words were sure to take a gander at the infernal posters.

Eva sneered, reaching a coal-stained hand up to claw it off the wall. As the paper tore away from the slimy bricks, she pulled it even more, not stopping until the lewd poster was nothing but tiny shreds of meaningless  _broadsheet._

The nearer she got to Mrs Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium, the more and more she saw  _Mrs Mooney_ advertised. It was getting harder to conceal her true feelings.

She finally lost her rag - the passage from Bell Court that led straight to her desired destination was  _unrecognisable_. The wall was completely covered in the same poster... Mrs Mooney's  _Finest_ Pies, repeated over, and over, and  _over..._

She growled, racing towards the litter of posters, both of her arms extended out like she was already ready to scale the width of the wall with her clawed fingers. She was oblivious to the baffled looks she received from members of the public as they passed on by, digging her grubby fingernails into the paper to sabotage each and every advertisement completely.

It only took her a few minutes to destroy the whole wall of propaganda - there were only odd bits of yellowed paper still pasted to the bricks which she couldn't get off. What she'd done was  _probably_ against the law, but a whole  _wall_ dedicated to advertising  _one place..._

That was  _more_ than taking the piss.

Mrs Lovett's competitor clearly hadn't  _a clue_ who she was messing with.

A hell of a lot more time must have passed than she had realised, because once she finally stormed across the cobbles towards Mrs Lovett's Emporium, the sky was completely  _black,_ the yard was completely  _empty,_ and more importantly, Mr Todd was in the middle of locking up his shop door. Her grey eyes peered up at him beneath the black shade of her hat as she came to a stop in the middle of the courtyard, wondering how long she'd really spent tearing down all of those paper-monstrosities.

Before she had chance to make herself appear busy or at the very least,  _look away_ , Mr Todd turned around and his black eyes immediately scolded down at her. She was unbelievably  _later_ than their routine time, so it was no wonder he was already slightly irritated by her presence.

They held each others stare as he slowly decended down his staircase, his body stiff and rigid in what seemed like an attempt at intimidation. But from the way Eva crossed her arms across her chest and let out a huff of visible air, it was quite clear that he was probably  _boring_ her more than anything.

"What took you so long?" the barber quipped lowly as he reached the bottom stair, his eyes still burning into her mercilessly.

"Poster trouble." she answered fairly confidently, though she kept her face blank of any emotion, which only annoyed him further. "Mrs Mooney attempted to slander Mrs Lovett's business, so I stripped every one of her pesky  _advertisements_ from the walls on my way here."

Sweeney's eyes widened with surprise as he approached her, and he jolted to a halt once he was directly in front of her.

"What? What do you mean  _slander?_ Why would - "

"You really don't listen to your accomplice, do you?" she deliberately poked, her tone very much frustrated - she was sick of the two of them not communicating with each other properly. "She's  _always_ talking about her rival. You ought to  _listen_ to her, you know. You might just learn a thing or two."

He shot her a threatening stare, but strangely he didn't say a word in reply. Now that he knew Eva was his daughter, he felt that he wasn't at liberty to scold her in any way. She'd proved that she was smart, independent and perfectly capable to both Eleanor and him. So he knew by now, that if she was  _probing_ or  _spiteful,_ she'd only do it for a plausible reason.

Nevertheless, the way she shrugged with disinterest in response to his expression of rage-induced annoyance made his blood boil.

"Let's get inside." he suddenly said vacantly, eyes still studying her with venom. "Mrs Lovett's gone to light 'er fire. I'm sure she shan't be too long."

Eva nodded and dropped her hands away from her so that they hung limply by her sides. She then followed Mr Todd, who had already wandered through the side-door, entering the main shop. He glanced back to her like he doubted she was even following him, and she couldn't help a small frown gracing her brow.

It was like he didn't  _trust_ her all of a sudden.

* * *

Eleanor slung down the last few logs onto the fireplace, her brown eyes reflecting the flickering peaches and reds of the dancing flames. Feeling the warmth finally hitting her form, she sighed, hugging her arms around herself to trap the heat close to her body.

It was a  _bitterly_ cold night, one of the coldest to occur in London for quite some time.

Soon realising she couldn't just stand in front of her fire all evening, she turned herself around, shaking her head at the sight of an unconscious young lad, who was strewn across her settee in a lethargic manner.

She rolled her eyes,  _'That bleedin' boy'll never learn.'_

She quietly crept over to the incoherent Toby, not wishing to wake him up - she adored the lad to pieces, but she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't a little fed up of his energy since their day out yesterday. She prised the gin bottle out of his embrace, letting out a huff as she stood back up straight. She unscrewed the cap, only to screw it back on tightly, double checking that the lid was on properly.

Sighing out deeply once more at the sight of Toby, she hugged the bottle to herself and made her way through to her shop, going about her business by fetching a few tumblers for her and Mr T from the counter-top. She bit her lip - memories of what had occurred at  _the_   _same time_ the night before on that  _very counter_ made her inadvertently blush.

Naturally the two of them had settled their differences...

... more than  _fairly._

Completely lost in her mind which was still filled with memories of mischief and carnal kisses, she failed to realise the quizzical looks she received from the two occupants of the booth by one of the shop windows.

Both Miss Fiori and Mr Todd were finding out that their laughter was starting to get increasingly more difficult to hold back - the dreamy expression on Eleanor's face as she held onto the objects in her hands was too comically adorable.

They realised that she was perhaps completely away from planet Earth for the time being so they continued whatever they'd been talking about before she'd walked in - it was something  _morbid,_ of course.

As soon as their chatter commenced, Eleanor inhaled sharply and shook her head, as if breaking the bubble of memory she'd previously been in. Her brown eyes wandered over to the two of them in deep conversation and she couldn't help feeling a sense of pride. A few months ago the two of them had been at each others throats, and now, they were talking like two civilised people. Well, considering their topic of  _murder,_ pehaps not so  _civilised._

Keeping a small smile on her lips, she added another glass onto the pile of tumblers before she meandered over to their table. The two of them instantly turned their gazes onto her, like they were surprised to see her for some reason.

 _"Mrs Lovett."_ Eva addressed politely, tipping her hat towards the baker.

 _"Miss Fiori."_ Eleanor replied with a little smile as she set the bottle and stack of tumblers down onto the table. " 'Elp y'selves loves."

Sweeney didn't even bother greeting her verbally, but as soon as she met his gaze, she knew that he was certainly wanting to do more than say  _hello._

Smirks briefly reached their mouths as she seated herself beside him, their eyes finding it hard to disconnect. She sat idly, placing both of her hands in her lap as her spine slouched down into a comfortable position. One of his hands subtly slid across the wooden seat and her skirts to rest next to her lap, causing his skin to brush over the knuckles of her hands.

"Wot brings you 'ere so late, dear?" Eleanor quickly blurted out, clearly wanting to cover up her shortness of breath which was due to his actions. " 'S very unlike y'self, we know 'ow punctual ya like to be."

"She was dealin' with your competition, pet. That dreadful woman tried to make you look like a  _charlatan."_ Sweeney interrupted as he gazed at her with honest eyes - but he earned a scowl from Eva, who was watching the two of them from the other side of the table.

 _"I told you not to say anything."_ Eva whispered fiercely, filling up each of the three glasses in a nonchalant yet precise manner.

 _"Mrs Mooney?!_ With  _'er cat pies?_ You 'avin' a laugh?" Eleanor questioned in complete surprise, searching Sweeney's eyes which were now full of amusement. "She's got some bleedin' cheek. Wot the 'ell did she try to do then?"

Eva opened her mouth to reply, but the barber beat her to it.

"Oh, 's nothin' to worry 'bout now. All been dealt with,  _yes?"_ he asked calmly, briefly glancing over at the undertaker, who clamped her mouth shut and nodded.  _"See._ Don't you worry, Mrs Lovett. Everythin' is in order."

"Thank 'eavens f'that. Can't be doin' with anymore problems on me plate." Eleanor muttered, blindly picking up one of the shot glasses to already take a generous sip of gin.

"While we're on the topic of  _problems,_ a constable came knockin' 'ere last night." Sweeney stated in a deadpan tone, but his eyes were deadly serious as they settled on his daughter, who was conveniently sat directly in his line of sight.

"Wot?!  _That's who it was?!_ Why the  _'ell_ didn't ya tell me?!" Eleanor exclaimed in exasperation, internally her heart was beating with such frightened anxiety. She really didn't want anything like that kept from her knowledge... because if  _Sweeney_ was to head down, then so was  _she._

 _"Wot did you do?"_ Sweeney continued to address Eva in a pressing voice, completely ignoring the panicking baker sat beside him (who was now eagerly drinking her shot down). His demeanour had suddenly shifted and he seemed a lot more intense, a lot more  _daunting._

"Something that needed to be done." Eva answered all too vaguely for anyone's liking, suddenly removing her hat now that she realised she was likely to be up for an evening's  _grilling._ "Which constable came here? Did he give you his name?"

 _"No,"_ the barber answered shortly, sliding one of the glasses of gin towards him so that he could lightly claw his hand around it. "but 'e seemed spooked once I mentioned  _you."_

She smirked, "As he should have been. The whole of the Yard are the same... they cower like  _pansies_ , you know."

Her amusement soon fell, as did her eyes, which studied the way the light reflected in the transparency of the glass tumbler.

Mrs Lovett still appeared to be in a state of mild  _shock -_ she'd placed her half-gloved hands onto the surface of the table now, studying them with an absent-minded expression.

Either the barber or undertaker sighed - she was too stuck in her worries to figure out which one of them it was.

"There's something I have to tell you." Eva admitted, bringing her glass to her mouth in order to take a warm sip. "I may as well tell you both  _something,_ because I'm not entirely sure when we'll have time to sit like this again. You've both been in the dark for far too long... and we're in dire need of some entertainment around here."

Eleanor's wide eyes raised to face the girl sat opposite, and Sweeney nearly mirrored her curious expression. If the situation hadn't been so suddenly serious, Eva would have probably laughed at the sight of the two of them.

"I'd ensure your glasses were  _full,_ if I were you. You may need a few shots to settle your nerves..."

* * *

_**The night of Judge Turpin's Annual Celebration** _

_The dark didn't scare Eva Fiori anymore._

_She knew the Judge had drawn the curtains on purpose - it was what he had done the last time he'd imprisoned her in that very same room those couple of years ago. He probably thought that by leaving her in complete darkness, it would_ traumatise  _her, or crush her logic so that she became feeble... effectively_ useless.

 _She would have been lying if she said that being in that room didn't bother her - because it quite obviously_ did.  _She'd been bound by chains for a number of months the last time she'd been in there... so it was no wonder her mind was playing cruel tricks on her._

_Memories of her stomach grumbing with agony and her bones flagging flooded her brain and she closed her eyes to the pitch black of the room, attempting to push out the feeling of isolation she felt creeping up on her. She inhaled sharply, trying to outstretch her arms yet she growled out when the chains around her wrists tightened, restricting her movements. The metal links rattled as she tried to bash them against the hard panel-wall behind her head..._

_She was stronger than the last time she'd been in there. There was a good chance she could break free of her chains this time around._

_She opened her eyes, which were mere slashes of light through the darkness, wearing an expression of defiant determination. Sucking in a deep breath, she shuffled up from her kneeling position to half-crouch, half-stand. Without further delay, she pushed her arms out in front of her, as straight as they would go, using the power of her legs to drive herself further forwards._

_As she put the restraints under more tension, her ears pricked up at the sound of a nearby door opening. Her startled grey eyes darted towards the room's door, but it was still firmly locked, with a small strip of orange light bursting in through the small gap between the door and the floor._

_She continued to lunge herself forwards with vigor, appearing far more concerned when she heard faint sobs and sniffles as dense thuds sounded out in one of the rooms to the right of the door._

_Her worry turned to rage once she heard the blood-curdling cries of a young woman ring out. From the scuffles of feet and muffled voice which she recognised to be_ Judge Turpin,  _it was clear that he was planning to do something_ sick  _with the girl._

 _With a new-found fire, Eva bared her teeth and violently jerked her body forwards, and just like it had been some sort of wicked_ luck,  _her chain links snapped in two, sending her hurtling forwards in a frenzy of undiluted animosity._

_The end-tails of her coat flew into the air as she kicked one of her militant boots upwards, pounding her foot against the door until it eventually caved in._

_She breathed out in torn rags, black-rimmed eyes scanning the extravagant hallway laid out before her._

_A few men, with completely shaved heads, were dragging a young girl who had tumbling yellow locks, by the underside of her forearms. The girl had some fight in her, considering that_ two men  _were needed to restrain her._

_The girl was struggling against their hold so much that Eva couldn't quite get a good look at her face... but from the elaborate flowing night-dress she was wearing, Eva was willing to bet it was that little blonde girl she'd exchanged lives with from all those years ago._

_Now known under the name of her_ former self,  _of course._

_She couldn't watch the girl in such distress - and now that she surveyed the scene in a little more detail, she caught sight of a snippet of Turpin's smarmy smiling face at the other end of the hall. The man was sadistic in all the opposite ways that she was._

_She couldn't allow the men to carry on what they were doing - she felt that she owed the girl a favour at the very_ least.

_Eva decided that it was best to strike now, considering that no one had noticed her just yet. As she reached her hands up, securely adjusting the placement of her stove-pipe hat, she bent her knees and readied her stance._

_Johanna's cries of distressed effort soon turned into yelps of terror as the thugs carrying her started to clutch at her dress instead of the skin of her arms. She flailed against them, trying her best to elbow them somewhere that it hurt, but it only caused their clutches to grow more vile. Buttons popped off her night-gown and rolled across the floorboards, echoing the full way down the richly decorated corridor._

_"That's it, men. Do what you must." Eva heard the Judge's deep voice sound out - there was a slight_ enthusiasm  _to his tone. "She shall be taught a fair lesson in Bedlam - no need to dally now, the girl is utterly_ unhinged.  _Get her out of my sight."_

'Unhinged for not wanting to even look upon him as he tried to  _touch her,_ I bet.'  _Eva thought, bouncing on the balls of her feet in preparation to pounce._ 'Or perhaps she's denied a marriage proposal of his?'

_Either one made her want to vomit._

_Her disgust had been enough to send her beserk and she unleashed an unhallowed roar, one that was deeper and darker than she had ever let out before in her life. She briefly saw the men pause, which caused Johanna to worriedly glance towards the ravenous undertaker..._

_Eva stomped across the hallway in an ear-shattering charge. Pure_ hatred  _fueled her actions, pumping around her veins with each heavy boot-slam she administered to the ground._

_Neither of the thugs had time to move out of the way properly, but they had to act somehow, so they snatched away their hold on Johanna and she collapsed clumsily to the floor, curling up into a defensive ball. The two men reached into their pockets, and Eva instantly knew what sort of weapon would be drawn._

_Their revolvers didn't deter her, they only spurred her on further._

_But the lines of rescuing Johanna from whatever fate the Judge had in store, soon blurred with her own violent tendencies... not to mention her taste for_ human flesh.  _As her teeth grinded together in anticipation of what fight was to come, droplets of grey-tinted saliva dribbled down her chin in anticipation of the first bite she'd take out of their meaty skin._

 _As the two thugs fumbled about due to their inexperience with firearms, she expelled another unexpectedly snide outcry, latching her claws onto one of the man's outstretched arms. She tugged it forcefully and he attempted to fight back, but the_ crick  _noise soon sounded out his agony and he howled in pain._

_The Judge watched in wide-eyed horror as Eva began snacking on the flesh of the man's forearm. He took nonchalant steps back, but couldn't quite look away from the horrendous scene._

_The other thug called out his friend's name, trembling in fear. He was still having trouble with loading up his revolver seeing as he was shaking so much, but he soon sobered himself up after he heard Eva's teeth crunch around his colleague's ulna bone. The sound of his colleague's cries only got louder and he soon cocked his gun, aiming at the deranged undertaker..._

_The man's aim wobbled precariously, but he was attempting an aim to_ kill.  _Once he thought the barrel was aimed towards Eva's skull, he confidently pulled back the trigger..._

_The shot clattered out and the feral woman instantly collapsed to the ground, completely motionless. The man who fired the shot smiled in triumph and quickly ran over to his friend - who was lying down over a pool of his own thin blood, his eyes completely open wide..._

_There was no sign of life._

_He must have died from_ shock...  _which was no surprise, since his arm had been chewed down to the_ bone.

 _Johanna was shivering in fear, still curled up in a protective ball. She had no intention of fighting her way out now - she was absolutely terrified. One moment she was going to be thrown in an asylum, the next, people were being_ eaten  _or_ shot.

 _The man who was still alive desperately searched the hallway for someone,_ anyone,  _with his eyes - the Judge must have bounded down the stairs at some point, because he was no longer anywhere to be seen._

_He cradled his friend, pressing two fingers to his neck in hopes that there was still a pulse... but from the blue tinge to the man's lips, it was clear he was long gone._

_Too focused on the death of his late friend, he failed to notice Eva quietly sitting herself up behind him, burgundy droplets trickling out of her mouth and down her chin. She winced slightly, clutching one of her arms - the bullet had gone right through her forearm, talk about_ irony.  _The wound was ridiculously painful, but the sight of a thug still_ alive _was even more painful to her._

_Before the man had time to react, she kept quiet and prised herself up, lashing one of her boots against the small of his back. She had to make sure her attacks were well thought out now that she was injured, but it wasn't like she was inexperienced - this had happened countless times before._

_The man gained the upper hand in their fight fairly quickly, ripping her coat away from her like it was made out of paper. This only enraged her more._

_There were only two things that really pissed Eva Fiori off._

_The first, was messing with her family._

_The second, was damaging her outfit._

_He caught hold of her neck-tie next, using it in attempt to strangle her, but she easily kicked him away from her._

_Now that they were both too focused on fighting one another, Johanna took the opportunity to flee from the harrowing scene, covering her eyes with her palms as streams of tears flooded down her cheeks._

_And she was_ successful  _in fleeing..._

 _... back to the safe haven of_ her bedroom.

_That was certainly the last thing Eva wanted the girl to do, she could have gotten her out of Turpin's clutches entirely..._

_But Johanna had crawled back to the corrupt mitts of her manipulative guardian like an brain-washed slave._

* * *

There was a hush that fell over the table, one that was out of  _shock_ rather than icy tension.

Sweeney gawped at his daughter, genuinely enthralled by the story she'd told, "Why the  _hell_  did that rat imprison you?!"

"Like I said, I was there that night to ensure he didn't have his way with the two of you." she answered in a tired voice, like she was bored of the topic already. "He certainly didn't like that I was on his premises, naturally he took action."

"I didn't mean  _then._ I meant  _before."_ he said coldly, but it was clear he wasn't angry because of her. It was that damned  _Judge,_ who was still managing to infuriate him even though he was nothing but a pile of ashes in the bottom of Mrs Lovett's oven.

"Not even I know the answer to that, Mr Todd. Perhaps it was because I was too stubborn, or free-thinking."

"No  _wonder_ you were 'appy when I offed 'im." he muttered and Eva couldn't help smirking, pouring herself another shot. She felt like she'd earned it after the story she'd just recounted.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes in contemplation, sensing that the girl was still hiding something from them, yet she didn't say a word. For once, the last thing she wanted was to be involved in conversation.

"Why are you tellin' us this now?" Sweeney piped up again, glancing towards Eleanor in concern - he was surprised how deadly silent she was.

"Because the men that the Judge hired were  _familiar -_ it was only when I thought back that I realised who they were. They had probably approached the Judge before he'd even asked anything of them. It had been a way for their employer get back at me. So I attacked one of his cronies yesterday as payback, my apologies for any inconvenience it may have caused you both."

"Why 'aven't you done anythin' about this  _employer_ of theirs, then?" he continued to question in a casual manner, but it was clear that he was internally absorbing every detail into his cunning mind.

Eva stared down at her completely empty shot glass, her eyes bearing regret but such  _hatred_ as well.

"It's not quite that simple." she replied, and from her tone of voice, it was clear she didn't want to speak anymore on the matter.

Sweeney's eyes studied her in interest as he necked down the whole tumbler of gin - he hadn't been able to touch the stuff when she'd been talking before, he'd been far too engrossed in her story.

"Seeing as I've told you about all of that... " Eva sighed out, pushing some of her dark red hair out of her face. "... I might as well get rid of something else I've hidden from you..."

Both Eleanor and Sweeney frowned at her as she stooped down slightly, digging into one of her coat pockets. She brought a medium sized object out of it and held it over her lap so that their view of it was obstructed by the surface of the table.

"I... I took this from you, and I shouldn't have." she said in small voice, her gaze was sad, almost  _shameful_ , as she kept it on the object within her hands. "I had no reason to take it and... well, I suppose that I thought it was something from your past. Something I could have connected with... I couldn't have been more wrong."

She lifted the object higher and set it down onto the table carefully.

It was a card box. A very  _familiar_ card box.

Eva was oddly blushing as Sweeney frowned at her in confusion. He'd never seen that box in  _his life..._ at least, so he thought.

He darted his eyes to Eleanor in hopes she'd share his bewilderment, but she too had cheeks that were tinged pink, and eyes wide as saucers. The baker had withheld the urge to gasp out, but she was already feeling a little light headed from slight embarrassment.

Sick of the two of them knowing something that he didn't, he snatched each side of the box within his hold, moving it so that it was right in front of him. Immediately, he removed the lid, too impatient to ask anymore questions to the two women, who were still flushed pink.

He frowned as he peered inside, instantly recognising the familiar item. His expression softened and he carefully hoisted the first object out of the box, caressing it in his pale palms.

 _It was his prized picture frame._ He'd misplaced it for quite sometime.

He didn't delay in swinging it open.

There was the usual photograph of Lucy Barker in one frame, and Lucy with Johanna in the other. But as he looked closer... it looked like it had been deliberately  _sabotaged_ \- the glass had been quite thoroughly scratched over both portraits of Lucy.

Sweeney winced as he looked at Eva in broken-hearted confusion.

"Lucy Barker isn't deserving of your time. She never was. She was feeble, so feeble and caught up in her own madness that she couldn't even recognise her own child." Eva finally spoke patiently, her grey eyes reminding him so much of his former wife... yet her words practically  _spat_ at him in venom.

"But she - "

"I wouldn't give her any excuses if I were you, Mr Todd." she suddenly drawled, raising her voice a little louder so she knew that he'd be compelled to listen. "She didn't bother about caring for her daughter,  _your_ daughter. Nor did she bother  _waiting for you."_

He frowned in stubborn disbelief. Internally, he knew that what she was telling him was true but he did  _not_ want to hear  _her_ say it.

"But someone else  _did._ Someone else waited for you, for all of that time." Eva whispered, eyes drifting towards him with a film of tears in her eyes. He instantly knew that she was referring to the baker sat next to him - who had been completely quiet ever since Eva had recounted her story of Turpin's party.

His gaze flickered from his daughter, to Eleanor, who slid her hand over towards his, caressing his skin with her fingertips. There was so much care visible in her brown eyes, so much  _longing._ He knew she longed to be free from Fleet Street, knew that she wished that the two of them could start anew some place else.

He wanted to view her hopeful eyes for eternity, wanted to lay his own eyes on her adoration for him every  _second_ until the day he finally died.

He'd never thought of how long she must have suffered being alone, stuck in a never-ending queue of  _loneliness_ , all because she wished to be with  _him._

 _"Please_ don't waste your time on  _Mother."_ Eva added in a bitter tone, trying to fight back her tears now that she recognised the way in which the two people across from her looked at one another. "Eleanor has done  _so much_ for you, so many things that she probably hasn't even thought about discussing with you."

"What?" Sweeney murmured, his black eyes shining as they searched Eleanor's brown ones - it was like they were finally seeing each other from another glorious perspective. "What else 'ave you done for me?"

He felt slightly  _stupid,_ seeing as the two women both knew the answer to his question, but his feeling of incomptence soon blew over as Eleanor brought her free hand up to stroke the side of his cheek. For the first time ever, his eyes faltered and for that, she could only smile in amazement.

He felt her hand parting with his skin as she briefly glanced to Eva, and he quickly took hold of the hand she'd rested on top of his, squeezing it tightly to earn her attention once again.

He didn't want to hear it from Eva.

He wanted to hear it from  _her._ He wanted to listen to her airy voice, wanted to watch every move her lips made... wanted to feel her words speak to his very  _soul._

She truly didn't know where to begin.

But from the way Eva was slowly tearing up, she knew what the girl wanted her to tell him.

"As I've told ya before..." Eleanor began slowly, in a strangely timid voice. "Lucy were bed-ridden for months after tryin' to top 'erself. Didn't move a bleedin' muscle. She woulda let 'er poor little girl fester away an' starve if I 'adn't taken Johanna under me wing. She were like me own, she was. She'd potter about all 'round 'is place, always puttin' a smile on me face. But'a course... once 'er mother 'ad gone I 'ad now real say in keepin' 'er."

Sweeney was speechless, and he silently felt a wave of adoration for her flow through him. Why the hell hadn't she told him this before?! She must have had her reasons.

In truth, she thought that he'd never believe her.

He raised his brows and his black eyes met her worried gaze. He blindly discarded his picture-frame back into the card box, moving his hands over to take hold of hers.

"Words can't express 'ow much I want to kiss you right now." he whispered in a single breath, and she grazed her teeth over her smile, her heart pounding with such love for him.

She finally felt  _accepted._

Finally felt like she was somebody who was incredibly  _important_ to him.

He dipped his head towards her before she could register what was happening, and pressed a warm chaste kiss to her lips, squeezing his hands arounds hers tightly. She winced with happiness and let out a shuddered breath as he softly pulled away from her.

She felt excitement bubble within her - she was that happy that she wanted to sing out in a joyful act of love...

But her wants were soon tossed aside as she realised his attention had shifted from her a little, his hands falling away from hers. The man seemed to have an attention span of a young  _toddler._

"Wait a minute, there's somethin' else in 'ere." Sweeney murmured as he peeked inside the card box again, spotting something wide and rectangular beneath his photo-frame. Eleanor audibly gasped this time, placing a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened. He didn't delay in yanking the thin book out of the neat box, hands turning it over so that he could study each black cover curiously.

_"Wot's this?"_

"I... uhm, wouldn't open it whilst  _I'm_  here, if I were you." Eva suddenly blurted out, shading her eyes with her hands like she was too embarrassed to look.

But being Sweeney Todd, he did as he pleased, regardless of the advice of others... and opened the front cover.

He was tempted to read the neat handwriting that was written on the first page outloud, but he decided against it as soon as he skimmed his eyes over the message...

_Merry Bloody Christmas, Sweeney Todd._

_If this book doesn't make you see sense, then God help you._

_Love,_

_Nell_

His frown deepened and his eyes flashed abnormally as he skipped to the next page, eager to find out what the hell his accomplice's note had been on about...

He immediately inhaled sharply, his eyes wide with amused astonishment.

He blushed a shade of crimson and quickly snapped the book shut, not knowing where the hell he was to look as he swiftly placed the photo album back into his Christmas box.

Eleanor bit into her smirk knowingly, and Eva shifted awkwardly, clearing her throat. His flushed expression and the way he gulped down his sudden arousal was everything that Eleanor had hoped for - she quickly took hold of one his hands, like she was insinuating that she was there if he needed moral support to stop himself from blushing.

"Told you not to open it. I bet that gave you a nasty shock, didn't it?" Eva said in a mostly vacant tone but she couldn't help snickering.

 _"Of course not."_ Sweeney quipped confidently, obsidian eyes flickering wickedly as they settled on a flushed Eleanor Lovett. "That first picture of Eleanor seemed to have been taken in  _exquisite_ taste."

 _'And clearly taken for_ me.' he thought to himself, a wily smirk spreading across his face.


	40. Their Descent into a Vile World

Tuesday night was certainly the  _worst_ night for the supply of meat to run out.

When the barber and the undertaker followed Eleanor Lovett down those slimy stairs to enter the dingy descent of the bake-house, they anticipated a  _simple_ problem - like the oven's hinge needing a bit of oil, or the grinder needing unclogging...

But when their wide eyes met with the sight of a completely  _bare_ bake-house...

It shook them to their very  _core._

They'd had  _plenty_ when they'd checked the amount of meat that they had left that very morning... so seeing the blood-soaked slabs devoid of any meaty carcasses was slightly  _unnerving._

Questions littered their brains, and a concerning silence fell over the three of them - someone, or  _something_ must have completely cleared them out.

As the panic finally set in, it was Mr Todd that threw the first accusation, whirling around to face the undertaker, who appeared to be just as shocked as he was.

 _"You_ did this, didnt you?" he spat, taking a few slow steps towards her, like he was silently threatening her already. "Don't think I don't know of your  _tastes,_ Miss Fiori - "

Eleanor's eyes widened at him and she defiantly pushed herself between the two of them, not wishing for them to squabble, especially when she was about to have a _panic attack_ \- she needed the three of them to stick together so they could deal with their problem  _quickly._

" 'Ow can you say that?! She's not been 'ere all day! An' it's no use us fightin', wot am I gonna  _do?! I've got nothin' to sell!"_ she shot at him, her eyes narrowed though from her trembling arms it was clear she was incredibly apprehensive.

Sweeney's skeptical gaze softened as he studied the fear within Eleanor's brown eyes - he hated such worry on her face. He felt slightly guilty all of a sudden... his accusation had probably just made her feel ten times more  _tense._ He felt his apology ready to pounce out of the back of his throat, and thinking nothing of it, he opened his mouth to finally apologise to her -

_SMACK._

Three sets of glinting eyes darted towards the dense sound that had ricocheted from above, and Eleanor was the only one out of the three to actually give out an anxious gasp. All of them were thinking the same thing... and it wasn't long before Sweeney acted.

He snatched hold of his accomplice's wrist and tugged her back up the bake-house stairs, a very stern-looking Eva hot on their heels.

They were desperate to investigate what the source of such a heavy,  _evil_ sound was... they were even  _more_ desperate when it echoed out a  _second_ time, louder now that they were getting nearer.

Sweeney had one of his arms latched around Eleanor's wrists as he dragged her through the candle-lit parlour, his hawk-like gaze surveying every dark nook and cranny for anything suspicious. It was to no avail, because there was nothing to be found.

That only spurred him on to carry on, and he let out a subdued snarl as he decided to continue through to the main shop. Eleanor winced from his clenched grip on her, and whimpered in apprehension of what they were to find...

Something was clearly very  _wrong._

And it didn't take them long to find out what it was that had created such a loud noise.

They soon came to a stop a few steps away from her dusty counter, facing ahead towards the windows of the shop. Sweeney's grip on Eleanor loosened as he stiffened his back, his black eyes wide with bewilderment. She mimicked his look of confusion, but it was more obvious that she was also slightly frightened from the way she immediately flinched herself closer to the man beside her.

They heard the subtle footsteps of Eva entering the room, but they were too concerned with what was outside to acknowledge her presence. She came to a stop beside Eleanor - her gaze too, was immediately fixed on what laid in wait for them outside that door.

 _"What do they want?"_ Sweeney murmured in a vacant tone, not reacting to the shaking woman next to him, who had briefly glanced towards him in hopes of comfort.

"The sign says we're  _closed..._ w-why are th-they... " Eleanor trailed off, her voice quaking when she felt his hand stroke down from her wrist in order that he could squeeze her hand in reassurance.

"You know why they're here." Eva piped up in a confident tone, but it was quite clear that she wasn't attempting to be clever, she was trying to think rationally for their sakes.

"W-Well we ain't  _open!_ We ain't got anythin'  _left!"_ Eleanor exclaimed, brown eyes wide with concern - she hadn't a clue what they were to do.  _"We 'ave nothin' to give 'em!"_

"They seem fairly  _serious_ about this." Sweeney said in a hushed tone, frowning in confusion - he was hoping that it was some ridiculous  _prank_ that Eleanor's customers were playing. But from the front row of mucky faces, which were pressed up against the windows - the stern expressions told him otherwise.

 _"Of course_ they're  _serious,_ Mr Todd." Eva snapped back shortly, seemingly irritated by how trivial he thought their predicament was. "If they've been regulars here for a few months then they're bound to get  _tetchy._ They won't go a day without their fix of  _human_ , and if that means they have to tear someone down to gorge themselves, then _by god,_ they'll do it."

Sweeney and Eleanor exchanged worried glances, knowing that Eva knew best out of the three of them, given her  _cannibalistic tendencies._ They were also slightly regretting their actions - their meat scheme was finally back-firing on them and they were clueless what they were to do in their current situation.

They hadn't the time to count the crowd, but they really wouldn't have been surprised if the entire of Fleet Street was packed  _wall to wall_ with hungry gluttons. They were completely surrounded by their deranged customers, who wouldn't back down until they finally feasted on the flesh they desired.

The three of them stood motionless, studying the greedy gathering of stoic people who were glaring at them with their beady eyes through the dusty window panes of Eleanor's shop. Some eyes were bloodshot with anger, while others were wide and filled with maddening fixation. Some opened their mouths because they were already salivating due to the anticipation of a good meat pie, others just held their mouths in an unreadable line.

None of the crowd had appeared to realise that Lovett's unorthodox meat source was in fact  _human beings,_ most of them just believed their fellow comrades were going mad with  _hunger,_ just like they were. If they  _had_ known, they would have already been devouring one another in the middle of the street.

"I don't like it." Eleanor suddenly whispered with a wince, hugging her arms around herself. "W-Why can't they just  _bugger off?_ I've been shut at this time 'fore so why they standin' there like  _pillocks?!_ We're outta bleedin' meat for god's sakes! We ain't got anythin' t'give 'em! Why are they still standin' out there?!"

Sweeney sensed the panic in her vowels and he stepped towards her, swiftly pulling her into his chest, where she already began to bury her head. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, hushing her murmurs of horror - he had seemingly forgotten that the public were out there staring them down, or perhaps he knew full well and he didn't care anymore.

_And that's when it started._

The crowd of flesh-hungry customers began to pound their fists against the glass of the windows and the skin of their knuckles split open with every dense blow, but that only drove them  _madder._ Their punches to the windows spread thin lines of blood into the fine cracks they made within the window panes, and the three of them watched in perturbed silence.

They  _really_ should have  _moved,_ because it was clear that the angry mob of cannibal customers weren't going to suddenly  _back down_ \- they weren't going to stop until they were inside the place.

But the three of them were so stunned by what they were witnessing that they couldn't quite take their eyes away, or even find the energy to move themselves.

Fragile smashes as flailing arms finally broke through windows caused the three of them to shake out of their terror-filled amazement. Sweeney's arms squeezed around Eleanor protectively and she inhaled sharply, dipping her head down further so that she could hide her face in the lapels of his waistcoat - she knew the sight of them would be  _ugly._

They could hear the sounds of them all now - they had anticipated victorious cheering, but there was nothing of the sort. They sounded like a pack of  _hounds,_ snarling, almost  _barking_ as they gritted their teeth together.

As more window panes smashed, rows of people further back grew angry and frustrated with the shoving going on as the acts of violence on the front row reverberated back to the rows behind. Their expressions had been intimidating but now, they were displaying pure rage, pure  _hatred_ for one another. They spat at each other in unintelligable waves, and the shoving between customers soon morphed into  _punches._

_Sweeney Todd's hell on Earth was playing out right before his black eyes._

Mankind were turning on themselves, becoming a clotted mass of hunger and _hostility._ He could only watch on in disgusted awe, his arms tightly embracing the woman he adored to encourage her to keep hiding her eyes from the monstrosity outside.

As the customers, rather,  _cannibals_ began to screech curses at each other, blinded by their need for meat, their acts of violence became  _uglier_ and more  _daring._ Instead of throwing fists, they were soon using their environment to thwack blunt objects at the skulls of anyone nearby. It was only seconds later that others started to claw at the faces of their peers, attempting to tear the flesh from bone...

Once they caught scent of skin being torn...

... they became postively  _feral,_ and acutely aware of their true strengths.

Eva Fiori knew what they were going through all too well, and the last thing she wanted was to see her father and Eleanor at the heart of this viscera-digest fest.

"Gather your things." she suddenly ordered, straightening her spine and re-adjusting her coat by the lapels like she was making sure she looked smart. "It looks like you're going to have to leave, they're going to stop at nothing to get what they want."

_"You don't 'ave the right to tell me what I'm to - "_

"For fuck's  _sake,_ man! We don't have time for an  _argument_ on whether you listen to me or not!" she cut Sweeney off in a yell, her anger already threatening to be unleashed then and there.

She was truly frustrated because she could have stopped this happening. If she hadn't told them to stay, if they hadn't listened to her and  _waited..._

They would have both been away, safe from  _whatever the hell was happening outside._

"I'll manage to hold them back for a while." she added in slightly quieter voice, grey eyes sizing up the few rabid men trying to break through one of the larger window panes - if one of them got in, that was it. "Get your things and get the hell out, neither of you deserve any of this."

Sweeney gave her a disconcerted look - he really did like what she was telling him to do. But when she stared at him, very much determined, her eyes hard with honesty...

He felt his legs obeying her instruction, his arms lugging Eleanor along with him. It felt like he was in some sort of a  _nightmare,_ because he couldn't really remember the journey towards Eleanor's bedroom. It was an adrenaline-fuelled blur.

He took an arm away from the baker for a moment, so that one of his hands could scramble around the slippery handle of her door. She whimpered and raised her head away from his chest, tears beading in her eyes as she internally wished for him to give her some kind of heart-felt  _promise._

_A promise that everything would be alright._

Her door swung open and she stood awkwardly as his cosy cage of arms fell away from her.

"Throw a bag together." he ordered hurriedly, holding back his desire to wince once he rested his eyes on her expression of obvious fear. "Only  _necessities,_ understand? We don't 'ave much time. I need to 'ead upstairs to grab mine, I promise you that I shan't be gone long."

Her eyes searched his as she finally registered his words.

"W-Wot?!  _N-No!_ P-Please don't leave m-me on me  _own,_ Mr T!" she unleashed in a panicked gasp, her palms covering her face from him like she was afraid of showing him how frightened she was.

He inhaled sharply and pulled her towards him, trapping her in his warm embrace once again.

"Then lock your door." he whispered before placing a kiss to her forehead. "Get some things together. By the time I'm back, I'll knock and say somethin' so y'know it's me, alright?"

She nodded her head vigorously, but her brown eyes shimmered with reluctance. She really didn't want him to leave.

And in all honesty, he  _hated_ leaving her alone in that moment. But he had no choice, he needed to snatch up those precious razors of his - ater all, they needed  _some_ sort of protection from the mass of meat-feasters outside.

Not daring to gaze back at her (because he knew he'd only want to run back to her), he sprinted away from her, stomping his way up the interior staircase which led to his barber shop.

Once he reached the landing, he barged his way into his shop, ignoring his workplace for the time being to instead head into his sleeping quarters.

Luckily, he'd already pre-made a small sack a while ago in the case of an emergency evacuation, and he was internally thanking himself for doing such a thing. There was nothing overly special inside, just an extra clean shirt, some loose money and of course, his prized box of razors.

He frantically dug one of his hands into his bag for the box, smirking victoriously once he struck gold... or perhaps more appropriately,  _chaste silver._ He carelessly flipped the lid open, and took out two of the sharpest-looking razors from the velvety cushioned interior. He then tossed the box back into his emergency-bag, shoving one razor into its rightful place... the holster on his belt. The other, would be a useful spare, which would be hidden elsewhere on his person.

One moment he was in his bedroom snatching up his bag, the next, he was bursting out the door wearing his trench-coat, his sack draped over his shoulder. To any stranger, he would probably look like he'd  _robbed_ somewhere.

Better to look like a  _thief_ than a  _murderer._

Just as he swung himself back towards the stairs, eager to head down them to see if Eleanor was safe...

Something caught his attention from the vanity to his right. He audibly huffed, annoyed at himself for getting distracted but his curiosity got the better of him.

He marched across the floorboards in a hurried manner, seeing the object that was tauntingly stood up...  _how could he have forgotten?_

He hesitated as he stared in contemplation at his picture-frame. He wore an indecisive expression on his face as his eyes flicked between the photo-case to the stuffed sack of necessities over his shoulder.

There was no time for regrets... but there was no point  _discarding_ his past either. Instead of taking the entire frame, he smashed the already cracked glass even more so that he could quickly slide out the picture of Lucy (who was now scratched out and very much  _unrecognisable)_ and Johanna as a young infant. He exhaled in a shudder as he folded the photograph in two and quickly shoved it into his left coat pocket.

* * *

Wearing her winter-coat with a bulging leather bag hanging from one of her shoulders, Eleanor waited for Sweeney outside her bedroom door. Naturally, he was more than relieved when he saw her... but he couldn't help feeling a little annoyed that she hadn't done exactly as he'd told her.

She knew that he was going to spout off at her, but she decided to speak first, knowing that there might be a chance he forgot about it.

"Couldn't bear lockin' meself in. That lock's been awful funny lately, didn't wanna risk gettin' stuck in there." she whispered, her breaths quite heavy from her anticipation of what was to come.

He frowned at her and kept quiet, soon giving her a firm nod in reply.

She hadn't expected him to move past her disobedience, but it really wasn't important compared to the  _Hell_ that was likely occurring outside... from the loud snarls and crashes, it was clear that the riot of cannibals had broken through to the shop now.

As Eleanor threaded her arm around his, he didn't delay in rushing them through to her main shop so that he could assess the situation.

And he immediately  _regretted_ doing such a thing.

A few of the feral customers had managed to break in and attack Eva, who was actually coping rather  _well_ defending herself. It was a surprise, considering her small frame - then again, it caused her to be quite  _agile._ It wasn't long however, as both barber and baker watched in mute horror, that she became completely  _surrounded_ by hungry consumers, who were keen on the idea of ripping her to shreds.

Sweeney's eyes widened with panic and he yanked his left arm which was entwined with Eleanor's, guiding her to the safer space behind her counter.

 _"Stay here."_ he breathed in a hurried manner, black eyes shining with worry as he studied the unease screwed over her features. "The girl needs some 'elp. Grab somethin' to defend yourself, looks like we're gonna 'ave to fight our way out."

She quickly obeyed him, frantically scrambling for an implement she could use as a reliable weapon. He darted over to where his daughter was being held down over one of the tables - from the three lots of hands holding onto her, it was clear that it wasn't easy to restrain her struggles.

Hearing her growls of effort as she tried to gain back control of the situation, Mr Todd felt his anger simmering to a dangerous  _boil._ He clenched his teeth together and ran across the length of the shop, towards the three customers. His hand easily snatched hold of the handy razor he'd eased into his coat pocket, his black eyes flashing with unmistakable loathing.

He flicked open his weapon in one swift movement and it wasn't long before he hooked his bent arm around the nearest customer's neck, blatantly slicing across the width of their throat.

Once deep red liquid gushed out of the wound he'd administered, the customer's shock set in and their once  _lively_ actions stopped entirely. They fell forwards, onto their knees, but that wasn't enough for proof of  _death_ for Sweeney, so he swung his boot into the small of the customer's back...

The person's body sounded  _hollow_ as he'd kicked against it, and it sunk down even more into a painful-looking position, where their stomach might as well have been  _non-existent..._ they had probably died from a mixture of shock and bleeding out so  _profusely._

Now with a deceased glutton by his toes, Sweeney wore a deep frown of disgusted amazement as the other customers who were holding Eva down, now turned and darted their bloodshot eyes towards the dead client. They looked like they were frothing at the mouth as they both growled out enthusiastically, arms reaching out towards the juicy body as they rapidly fell to their knees, wrapping their gums around the thickest bits of visible flesh...

Sweeney couldn't stand the sight of them - he'd never intended for London's population to  _degrade_ even  _further._ They had finally reached a new low, that surprised even  _him._

Eva sat up on the edge of the table, limbering up her shoulders and adjusting her hat as she watched her father swiftly slit the throats of the last two living feasters, their bodies densely keeling over. A thick pool of red branched out from the small pile of bodies now... the barber and the undertaker could only exchange alarmed glances.

"Thank you." she said sincerely, so quietly that he almost thought it was a whisper.

He held his mouth in a stern line, his eyes giving away that he was internally offended by her thanks - what did she expect of him? He wasn't just going to  _stand_ there, was he?

Before the shock of what had just happened glazed over, Eleanor's approaching footsteps caused his attention to waver from his daughter, and he immediately turned his gaze onto the baker once she stood beside him, a floury rolling pin in her left hand.

Both Sweeney and Eva frowned at her baking implement - out of all the things she had beneath that damned counter, that was the best thing she thought to be a defensive weapon? They gave her skeptical looks, but she soon shut them up when she bent down slightly, aiming the head of the rolling pin towards the pile of dead bodies... she struck the head of one of the nastier looking skulls, then stood back up straight with a half-smile.

"Just checkin'." she murmured, completely oblivious to the other two giving her looks of surprise.

"They're not  _supernatural bein's,_ Mrs Lovett." Sweeney remarked in attempt to  _lighten_ the situation, and she shrugged her shoulders at what he was inferring, like she was actually open to the idea.

As Eva stood back up, with both of her two boots on the ground, Eleanor sidled closer to the barber, coiling her right arm around his left one, leaning her head onto his shoulder. He could sense she was still very wary and frightened of the blood-drenched riot going on outside, and he tensed his bicep in an attempt to reassure her that he was there with her.

He felt compelled to murder or at least  _maim_ another feral being now that he had his precious baker clinging to his left arm. If another person so much as  _dared_ to get in the way of his family and their means of escape... he pledged to himself, that he would not hesitate in slitting their throat from ear to ear.

_His family._

The three of them faced towards the raucous madness of flesh-hungry maniacs outside, who were either clawing each at each other in a diabolical frenzy, or  _itching against the shattered windows to get inside..._

Before the barber or the baker had time to say a single remark to one another, Eva turned around to face them, her grey eyes a little more sunken than usual. The sooty black around her eyes had crawled into thin veins across her pale cheeks and temples, causing her to look rather ill yet ever so  _ominous._

Whatever had come over her, had clearly just occurred within the last few seconds, because she definitely  _hadn't_ looked like that when Sweeney had last locked eyes with her...

"Bake-house.  _Now."_ she urged out firmly through gritted teeth, seemingly trying to catch her breath whilst she commenced battling off another starving urge (presumably due to the fresh blood-leaking bodies by Sweeney's feet). "Follow the sewers East until you see a rusted grate. It swings right open, there should be a carriage nearby on the street above - make sure you mention my name, the driver will understand."

Sweeney frowned in confusion - was she not planning on  _going with them?_ They couldn't just  _leave_ her there. She was sure to be boxed-in by the human-hungry gorgers soon if she stayed where she was - the way they were  _thrashing_ against one another or even  _feasting_ on each other's limbs over the cobbles... it was clear that her staying on Fleet Street was practically  _suicide._

There was no  _way_ she'd be able to fight them all off. She'd have to abandon the place and head out through the bake-house, just like them.

 _"What the hell are you standing around for?!"_ she snapped out, her inhuman roar threatening to push out of her - they could detect it slipping out slightly through her sharp vowels.  _"Do you wish to be_ devoured?!  _Go!"_

Sweeney shot her a look of disappointment tinged with disheartened venom, ready to argue with her, but Eleanor had already started to tug away from him... and he was in no place to disagree with her. The pair of them were soon rushing back through to the parlour, their movements a complete blur to him due to the regrets already invading his mind.

It wasn't long before their hands frantically fumbled with the latch over the cupboard doors and they soon flung the barrier away, opening the doors to the bake-house for one last time...


	41. Sacrifice

Eva shoved the squawking woman off her, eyes wide with anger as she fought against the woman's claws. She cried out in pain as the woman dragged sharp fingernails down her forearm, where her bullet wound was tender since it was still healing from all that time ago.

It had been the last straw for the undertaker, and with one hard blow from her bruised fist to the side of the woman's skull, the woman fell down the bottom-half of stairs with a pathetic  _wheeze,_ her body clattering to the grungy ground - next to a few other cannibals that the undertaker had managed to cut down.

Eva caught her breath, her eyes briefly glancing over the woman's face. She  _recognised_ it from somewhere...

It was then that she realised that the woman had been a regular customer. When she thought a little more, she remembered that she often had her son with her...  _Nathaniel,_ she believed he was called.

She prayed that the boy was  _safe._ It was like a rabid  _mess_ of bloody viscera and gnashing teeth out there in the courtyard and surrounding street below. Any adult would not have stood a chance, so help a  _child._

A dense lot of erratic footsteps from the barber shop, which was situated at the top of the staircase, caused her to snap out of her thoughts, and heavy concern washed over her. She clenched her teeth, still resisting the urge to turn back and give into her desires. With every step closer to the landing, she exhaled a visible breath, telling herself that she would be no better than the wretched scum roaming the cobbles below, if she was to surrender to her macabre addiction.

Too focused on keeping her mind free from any temptation to feast, she let out a shrill gasp and flicked her eyes up when she witnessed a man violently  _shoulder-barging_ his way through Mr Todd's (now completely  _wrecked)_ door.

Her first reaction was to rush the rest of the way up the stairs as he stumbled around, thinking it was another  _disposable cannibal_ that had gotten too big for his boots...

But when the man appeared to jolt to a pause just outside the door, stood motionless as he peered over the banister, she realised his reaction was absurdly  _human_ \- presumably he'd just laid eyes upon the cannibalistic devastation going on down below.

As she carefully placed her feet on each stair in hopes of making some staircase progression, she took the opportunity to study him. The man was wearing well tailored-clothes, which was  _ironic_  considering that if he was planning on going downstairs, every part of him would be  _ripped to pieces_ either way.

It soon became clear to her, even from a side-angle, that it was the same dark blonde man she'd seen on Hampstead Heath that Sunday. He was an avid entrepeneur and a well renowned tailor from Northern Italy... but most importantly, a man she had  _far_ too many dark memories of from her sinister past.

It was obvious to Eva why he must have been there - the man wanted to lure her in back into his manipulative mitts, or perhaps he was the whole reason the meat had gone missing in the first place? Perhaps it had been a whole  _revenge plan_ on his part, for what she'd done to one of his employees?

She could have spat a  _train_ of insults out at him, and she really  _did_ want to... but she decided she'd rather not alert him before she administered her first strike.

So, she instead quietly tip-toed across the walkway, advancing towards him slowly.

Annoyingly, the dark-blonde man noticed her in his peripheral vision and swivelled on his heels, his blue-green eyes already dancing with amused suggestion as they settled upon her.

As the touch of a smirk reached his pouting lips, it told her enough to know that he most  _definitely_ had something to do with the riot taking place across the entire of Fleet Street. And to that she could only clench her fists, propelling one of them in front of her as she hurtled herself towards him in a mesmerising fit of  _rage._

He attempted to defend himself by pushing his palms against her ribs, but he growled out in annoyance when her livid right fist reached across his shoulder-blade so that she could pound it against his spine.

In all honesty, she had been waiting to do that for  _years._ This act of violence was  _glorious_ in her eyes.

As she continued to pummel her knuckles into him, he unleashed a yell of frustration and forced himself backwards, causing her to hit her spine against the rail of the banister behind her. She growled out and her fist turned into a claw, and she took the opportunity to grab the silky-fabric of his tailored-coat, dragging him to the free bit of space beside her. His lower back slammed against the wooden banister (just like hers had) and he gave out a ridiculous cry.

She took advantage again and swung herself forwards, her hand pinning him place as she came to a stop right in front of him. Before she could do anything else, he wriggled beneath her grip and managed to snatch hold of both of her forearms, his eyes not backing down from staring her down.

"What are you wearing this old thing for?" he teased, tearing his fingers into the fragile material of her prized tailcoat sleeves with ease. His nails tore into the fabric so much that she soon ended up shedding the coat away her person - it was completely  _ruined_ now.

_Once a bully_ ,  _always a bully._

Her expression was unreadable, and it was clear she'd made it that way to refrain from visibly breaking down. She  _loved_ that coat, he had no idea how much it meant to her - she regarded it as a part of her  _identity._ As much as she wanted to shoot him down with her terrifying flames of fury, she had to stay strong, or he would have won before their tiff was truly over.

"I take it that you saw my bride-to-be's  _posters?"_ Mr Gatti spoke as he attempted to catch his breath, his slight Italian accent slipping through whenever he uttered a digraph or heavy consonant. His voice was deep, but wobbled slightly like thin strands of shiny silk - and it made her simmer with such  _loathing,_ his very living  _being_ made her want to  _wretch._

Eva stayed silent, despite the fact she wanted to lash out at him again, attempting to deceive his perception of her.

"You were  _never_ as good as  _she_ is." he whispered with a disgusting grin, purposely trying to provoke a reaction out of her - but she was incredibly composed, and didn't even flinch as he grappled one of his ring-covered hands onto one of her shoulders. Now that her jacket was gone, she could feel the warmth from his skin sinking through the thin white fabric of her shirt sleeve.

"Oh, but I'll  _always_ be your  _first._ That will never change." she quipped with a dangerous undertone, thrusting her chin towards him when he attempted to pull her closer by her neck-tie. "And if you're insinuating that  _I'm_  your worst,  _Mercurio,_ I'm sure you're going to hate every  _second_ of what I'm about to do to you."

He sneered and stuck his face towards her, their chins colliding when their eyes hardened with impatient challenge.

_"Mrs Mooney? Really?!"_ Eva questioned quietly in a purposely snide tone, wearing a slight smirk as she managed to wiggle her arms back, reaching her hands towards two small hidden pockets - which were embedded into the material of her shirt, and hardly noticable at all. "You're practically an  _infant_ compared to  _her."_

Mr Gatti narrowed his eyes in suspicion, though it was clear that he found her hostility to be somewhat  _amusing,_ "What do you think you can  _do?"_

"Well, I don't know about you, but I prefer a fight to be  _up close and_   _personal,_ not some pathetic  _insult-war."_ she said in disinterest, continuing to fumble with something across the back of her shirt.

_"Much like your father, no doubt."_

Eva visibly froze, but her eyes darted dangerously towards his.

His snarky comment was what had finally sent her off the edge.

Her fingertips finally slipped into the back-pockets that they'd been searching for (which appeared to have been purposely tailored into her shirt), and they latched onto the handles of two curved blades - the were knives reminiscent of  _coat-hooks,_ only flatter and wider, and significantly more  _silver._ Unlike the pristine sheen of Mr Todd's razors, the metal was chipped and scratched, like she'd used it for something other than their intended use.

Once her hands were settled, she didn't hesitate in swinging her arms out to the sides, and then upwards, initiating a quick attack towards Mr Gatti. The man however, was irritatingly nimble and managed to slide out of the way of her, his eyes wide with unfortunate surprise.

His shock didn't make him entirely  _inept_ though - he bent one of his arms and out of instinct, clumsily threw his elbow towards her face, executing a nasty punch to her nose. She toppled back slightly, her eyes watering as burgundy liquid seeped from one of her nostrils - immediately she brought one of her shirt sleeves to her face, wiping the infernal blood-drip away from her nose.

Her grey eyes seemed even greyer when they locked onto his, bloodshot and menacing.

It was then that her hatred of him finally simmered to her pale surface. She growled out in annoyance and sliced horizontally in a frantic frenzy from left to right, to which he thrusted his bent arms in front of him in a petty attempt at defence...

Naturally the thick blades easily cut through his sleeves and reached through to his tanned skin beneath.

As he let out a low shriek due to the thin streams of blood dribbling down his arms, she felt her barrier of low self-belief fall away. He'd made her feel that way in his presence for  _years,_ but now that she was finally fighting him, she realised she was better equipped and far more skilful than he ever was.

_She should have never doubted herself._

As the two continued their scrap over the walkway, careful not to get too close to the banister, they failed to notice the subtle  _creak_ of a lid opening, which had originated from the  _trunk_ inside of Mr Todd's shop. Tiny pale hands shook as they pushed the lid the rest of the way back, and the little boy wasted no time in standing up.

Toby huffed out scared little pants, his brown eyes darting about the place like he was already having some kind of anxiety attack. He dashed towards the door upon hearing the familiar voice of his guardian, hope flooding through him now that someone he trusted was there to rescue him.

But what he saw from his place at the door-frame, made him want to cower in a corner and shield his eyes from the world...

Yet he found that he could only shiver and stare in unwelcomed fascination.

The significantly taller man was certainly taking a beating, rather a  _slicing._ With his every attempt at kicking or punching his opponent, she only dodged in reply, her adrenaline causing her to focus on the fight at hand. He then tried to latch his arms around her, but he ended up howling out as she swiped the blades  _left, right, left right..._

It was safe to say that she was making an absolute  _mess_ of the Italian.

As Toby continued to watch in mentally-scarring intrigue, he gawped in fear as Eva lost all sense of control and let out a feral  _roar_ from the deepest depths of her vocal chords. As the unholy sound was scraping up from her throat, she performed her last vicious maneuvre, swiping out both of her curved blades by her sides but only so she could bring them back towards the centre of her eye-line.

She slit the man in a vertical upper-cut - all the from his abdomen to the bottom of his ribcage. She didn't even bother staring at his face to see Mr Gatti's facial expression, nor did she waste anytime in waiting for any of his vital organs to fall out of the constraints of his slowing opening belly-skin...

She took a few steps back, her eyes on his legs as she noticed them about to give out now that his body had bigger problems to face - but she wouldn't give him the  _satisfaction_ of  _dropping to the floor..._

She outstretched her leg and gave him a firm kick in the chest, to which he quickly fell backwards and collided with the wooden banister. His body had no strength left in it, and he simply slid backwards, plummeting off the edge with one last woeful wheeze of breath.

His body slammed down onto one of the tables situated in Mrs Lovett's courtyard below, red pooling around him already. Eva quickly rushed over to the bloodied banister, wishing to see the sight of him finally leaving this world with her own intense gaze.

But the sight of the life finally leaving his eyes was soon buried within the mass of snatching hands, which greedily tore at his fresh corpse.

_The customers were quick to find a fresh piece of meat, it seemed._

"You always were a  _people-pleaser."_ she whispered venomously beneath her breath, both of her chapped hands resting over the wooden banister - she was leaning on it to  _hold herself up,_  her muscle fatigue was finally hitting her from all the violence she'd committed.

Her neck hairs suddenly stood on end, and she inhaled sharply, swivelling around as soon as she sensed someone staring at her from behind...

Toby Ragg was visibly shaken with terror, gawping at her like she was a real-life  _monster._ She knew she couldn't hide her scrapes and bruises from him, and now she knew she couldn't hide her true  _violence_ from him either.

He'd seen her for what she truly was.

In a daze of unexpected shame, she blindly holstered her  _last-resort blades_  (which were now  _soiled)_ back into their rightful pockets within her shirt. She adjusted her braces too, and swallowed when she realised the lad's teeth had started chattering.

"We have to go." she stated, her voice bearing a sad undertone - she could tell that she'd shattered Toby's impression of her, but she couldn't have him caught up in this dangerous predicament taking place on Fleet Street.

_"N-No!"_ he screeched out, flinching as she attempted to advance closer to him."I d-don't wanna g-go anywhere wi'  _you!"_

"Toby,  _please."_ she whispered, wearing a wince as she came close enough to him so that she could rest one of her bloodied hands over his shoulder. He pushed out a low whine of fear, tensing his body as he brought both of his arms up to cover his face.

She didn't have the time to explain anything to the lad, she had to get him to safety.

So she lifted him up, even when he struggled against her, and forced him to sit across her back in a piggy back. He punched and punched at her, sobbing loudly since he didn't know what else he could do. There was so much violence and disturbing behaviour going on around him...

... who the  _hell_ was the poor boy to  _trust?!_

**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _**

Deceased men with shaven heads were scattered over the thin layers of sewer water, the blood from their neck-wounds sifting into the hollow, grimy side-gutters. The barber had his razor tucked lightly inside his trench-coat pocket, his right hand eager to slide its hold onto the handle in case they were were ambushed again.

Eleanor clung around his left arm for dear life, holding her free arm close to her chest - her white-knuckled hand was still latched around her rolling pin. Her heart was beating with tremendous fear, but she couldn't deny how  _exciting_ it all was - the way Mr Todd carelessly slayed any enemy in their path was undeniably  _heroic_ to her.

Despite the amount of time they'd actually spent in the setting of the sewers, they hadn't actually made a great deal of progress. The man-hole they'd clambered down from was only a handful of yards away - those thugs had been tactically placed to purposely slow them both down, it seemed.

So it was no wonder that their hearts felt like they were in their mouths as the metallic scraping of the grate's lid echoed against the walls of the long, foreboding tunnel laid out before them. Both baker and barber froze their movements, sending each other stares of warning... but then they nodded their hands, silently telling each other that they were to do whatever they had to.

_Anything,_ so long as it ensured they could finally escape that seemingly  _never-ending_ tunnel of hair-raising presentiment.

The dark couple turned around towards the grate leading from the bake-house, looking extremely dangerous with the way the shadows clung to their stoic, opal faces, not to mention with the way their crafty hands extended out their weapons...

They watched in deadpan shock when they laid their eyes upon a limber figure - which fell down from the upper level in a controlled descent, their legs bending as their boots loudly slapped against the drenched sewer slabs. The couple's readied aggression soon fell when they noticed a small child clinging to their back, punching the adult's ribs as their little cries of anguish were muffled against a white shirt.

When Eva stretched her scarring arms up to quickly fasten the grate above her hat, Toby found it to be an opportunity to squirm away from her, his little feet pittering away as soon as they hit the ground.

Still in the middle of securing the lid, Eva couldn't help wearing a saddened expression - she knew what the boy had seen had disturbed him, but she couldn't have let her worst enemy live after what he'd done to her.

The little lad hurriedly ran towards Eleanor, completely ignoring the scatter of dead thugs slumped next to the gutters. He sobbed fearfully as he hugged his arms around her legs, hiding his face in her skirts.

The undertaker dropped down to a straight-backed position, her grey eyes instantly on Toby - it was obvious that she hadn't wanted to  _scare_ the young boy because she looked incredibly remorseful.

She advanced closer to the three people - Sweeney was trying to mask his true relief of seeing her, but it bled through his black eyes blatantly. Eleanor's gaze was fixed on the young lad, who clinging onto her like she was his salvation.

"Toby..." Eva said softly now that she was closer to them, wincing when he didn't even acknowledge her at first. Now that thin strips of moonlight invaded from the drain-covers above, Sweeney couldn't help noticing how worse-for-wear she looked - she must have put up some  _fight._

"Sh-She k-killed a-a man! I seen 'er do it - she's _a bad'un!"_ Toby pushed out hurriedly, his voice muffled from the material of Mrs Lovett's dress. He briefly backed himself away from her slightly, just enough so that he could peer down at his feet - but he immediately regretted doing such a thing, for the ground beneath his feet may as well have been a liquidated sheet of  _blood..._

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his face back into Eleanor's skirts, letting out a terrified whimper.

"Sh, there, there darlin'. S'alright we'll get you out of 'ere nice and safe." the baker's voice soothed, the arm that had once been entwined with Sweeney's was reaching down so that she could ruffle the lad's stringy brown hair.

The looming stare that Mr Todd shot towards Toby showed that he was  _dying_ to kill the trembling child then and there, especially after what the little blighter had just said about his daughter. He didn't think the lad had any right to  _judge_ the undertaker - given that everyone else was murdering each other upstairs anyway.

"It won't be long until they run loose down here." Eva piped up again, hoping to be the voice of reason - but she didn't sound as deadpan nor as confident as she usually did, for her voice wobbled with an unspoken sadness.

As Eleanor bent down slightly, pulling Toby into her embrace to hush his sobbing, Sweeney frowned at Eva like she was some haunting  _apparition._

"Which is why I'm going opt to stay here and cut a few of them down, it'll give you a clear run to the next grate." she added, her gaze dropping to the ground, like she couldn't bear watching her father's reaction.

_"What?!"_ Sweeney exclaimed, voice already panicked as it echoed around the rusted walls and pipes - he then swiftly proceeded to stalk towards her, he was clearly trying to deal with his discomforting mixture of emotions - he was both angry and  _proud_ of her at the same time.

"You three  _must_ carry on without me." she continued, regardless of him being stood right in front of her, boring his eyes into her like she was a human dart-board. "If we all go there's an enormous chance that they'll catch up with us. You've already been through enough already, there's no need for you to - "

_"No."_ Sweeney snarled, grabbing hold of her by her shoulders and shaking her like she was stupid. "No, you will  _not_ stay here! You're to come with us. You.. you have to."

Eleanor winced as Toby's arms tightened around her like he was even more scared, but also because she could tell that Mr Todd was shattering before her very eyes. It appeared that the barber had not known how much he'd truly connected with Eva... it had taken her courageous offer to make him see sense.

Eva raised her head, an expression of sincerity over her features as she directly stared at her father. She telepathically urged him to accept what she was going to do - she certainly wasn't going to change her mind now.

"From this point it's a straight run, so get a head start while you can." she quietly said in an admant tone, yet her eyes were faltering at the sadness she saw in her father's eyes - it was too much for her to ignore. "If you want my advice, once you leave London, head North. As North as you can get. The law doesn't communicate with any other authorities past the Midlands. I suggest... somewhere on the coast. I think you owe Eleanor that much."

Her words spoke to him more than she realised, and he reluctantly nodded. Her grey eyes were stubborn, but her expression looked ever so  _brave._ She was  _everything_ that he would have wished his daughter to be in that moment.

But he knew that he had to leave her behind now.

_"It won't be the same without you."_ he breathed out, clutching his hands tightly around her shoulders, like he never wanted to let her go.

"All I want is for you to be free of all of this." she whispered, her brows lifting as her emotions finally broke through her stoic barrier. "There's no time to discuss how much we regard each other as family, Mr Todd. I've made my decision. Please, just...

_.. go."_

Mr Todd clenched his jaw, about to say something but she'd already convinced him to abide her wishes by wrapping her slender arms around him in a tight hug. He was so gobsmacked by her actions that his arms stiffly circled around her, his chin resting on the brim of her hat. The hug was a little  _awkward,_ but he couldn't help feeling that another piece of himself had finally been found.

_Only to be lost again._

"I promise you that you'll never have to look back upon this place ever again." she breathed out, so quietly that he almost didn't hear her. "Please be happy.  _That's all I ask."_

She slowly took herself away from him and he had a film of tears in his eyes. He'd had no real connection with Eva until that moment, and his black heart actually appeared to be  _breaking._ He didn't want to see her leave him.

_Not now. Not ever._

Nevertheless, the barber reluctantly backed away from his daughter, frowning down at the ribbons of blood swirling in the sewer water. Eleanor gave him a look of worry and her bottom lip wobbled as she watched him turn back towards her and the boy, his gaze firmly on the ground as he blindly advanced towards them.

_"Y'just gonna_ leave  _'er?!"_

He was silent as he stopped right in front of them.

Mrs Lovett's words were eating straight through his ears before he could even register them. Nonetheless he really did  _not_ want to leave without Eva Fiori, and apparently Eleanor didn't either.

_"Doncha think that poor girl'a yours 'as been through enough?!"_

_"She insisted."_ he whispered sadly as he emerged out of his smoky thoughts, and she could see the reluctance to follow his daughter's wishes in his shimmering eyes.

She soon dropped her eyes from him when Toby's arms around her fell away - in fact, she felt him leave her  _altogether._ She watched in awe as the lad swivelled around to face Eva with salty beads dripping from his brown eyes.

As Eleanor slowly stood back up, she couldn't take her eyes away from the boy, who was taking slow steps towards his dishevelled guardian.

"There's not much time. We need to get a move on." Sweeney suddenly pressed sternly - his coldness was quite obviously a mask to cover his true sadness. He slid his soiled razor back out of his pocket, clasping the handle tightly within his blood-spattered fist. He then slung the sack (which was securely fastened in place) over his shoulder into a more comfortable position. He then held his arm before his person, in a slice-ready stance.

When he made the mistake of catching sight of Eleanor's eyes however, he couldn't resist swivelling back around to see what she was looking at.

The two of them gazed back sadly towards the undertaker, and watched in sudden heartbreak, as Toby splashed his feet across the water whilst he advanced towards her, and locked her in a tight hug.

Eva winced and bent down slightly, letting out a deep, shuddering breath as she returned the hug.

_The boy was unaware of how much that hug meant to her._

Sweeney sidled up to Eleanor, and forcefully linked his free arm around hers again, seeking comfort in her as they watched the youngsters finally bid farewell.

Without a word, the boy exchanged glances with Eva, to which she gave him a sad smile. He was still undeniably wary of her, but from the honest emotion on her face, he found no reason to be afraid of her anymore.

"You take care of both of them for me now, alright?" she breathed, her sore fingers stroking back his brown hair affectionately, her brow softly wincing.

He nodded with a sincere expression, brown eyes shining with an emotion bearing willing  _duty._ He then pushed her away gently, her arms falling away from him.

_"Cross me 'eart."_ he breathed, using his fore-finger to draw an imaginary cross over his chest.

And with that, he soon turned and rushed back to the dark couple with tears in his eyes, water splashing loudly with every step that he took. He hooked his arm around Eleanor's forearm, seeing as her hand was taken up by the rolling pin.

Even with the rest of her family stood in front of her, the undertaker took no delay in setting up her defence against the feasters already - she began to lie out some of the bodies from the gutter so that they were along the waterline instead, in hopes that the feral gobblers would be greedy enough to slow down to eat them.

The three of them watched her in a slight grief, none of them wanting to be the one to initiate their movement in the direction of their escape.

Once she had finished laying out the bodies, she straightened herself up, and turned away from the three of them to face the sewer-grate above. She reached her hands towards her back, unsheathing her knives from the holsters within the back-pockets of her shirt. She wielded them so they were directly by the sides of her face, already in a stance as dense thuds of what sounded like  _footsteps_ pounded from the slabs above.

It wouldn't be long until the customers found their way down there.

"Will we see you again?" Sweeney's voice abruptly rumbled, echoing off the metallic pipes lining the sewer-tunnels.

Eva's stance briefly halted and she tilted her head to the side, like she was contemplating her answer. A folorn wince was all he got in reply, and for that, his heart sunk like a dull anvil.

His feet felt like they were glued to the ground, even when he felt Eleanor finally tug his arm from the direction of their escape...

And he could only uncertainly follow her movements, his eyes still bearing a tortured gleam of sorrow.


	42. Cemented Trust

There was something  _eerie_ about running about the sewers during the prolonged approach to ten at night. The way the moonlight flooded through drainage covers above gave some sections of the pipes an ethereal gleam, and the darker parts almost appeared a blue-green... the colour that dead flesh goes once the insides start rotting.

Two pairs of boots slapped over the surface water, which consisted of rain run-off - apparently the clouds had decided to unleash a downpour over the city of London, because a fair bit of water was now gushing in from the streets and alleyways above the heads of those beloved criminals, who were desperately sprinting towards their freedom.

Eleanor had her arm linked around Sweeney's in a violent squeeze - he'd habitually wince and urge her to let go of him, but even he was glad to feel her there beside him.

They'd been running for what seemed like  _forever,_ but in reality it had only been about twenty minutes. The young lad had been having second thoughts about leaving Eva behind, and had kept pausing now and again. In the end, Sweeney had growled at him and scooped him up into his arms, draping the squealing boy over his shoulder as he continued to run.

The barber's actions were certainly  _questionable_ \- he  _loathed_ Toby, yet he'd picked him up without a moment's thought. In his thought-pattern, he had done it for Eleanor's piece of mind. However, if he'd been  _alone,_ it was likely thathe would have let the boy stand and face his own fate.

Toby awkwardly clung to the back of Sweeney's trenchcoat, his cheek resting against his shoulder-blade. If the boy hadn't been traumatised before, he certainly was now that he was being carried by the demon barber.

Sweeney had his right arm outstretched as his black eyes scanned the darkness for any oncoming enemies, anyone who was to see his sinister expression would find it hard not to turn and run from just how  _unhinged_ he appeared.

Then of course, there was Eleanor to his left, who had shoved her rolling pin down the front of her dress in order that she could hitch up her skirts with her hand - otherwise she was likely to have tripped over them, given how fast they were powering ahead.

All three of them were silent, only the shallow splashes of their feet over the thin layer of groun-water could be heard, along with the occasional heavy breath of effort. As they unknowingly reached the half-way point towards their destination, Eleanor and Sweeney exchanged concerned glances when muffled sounds of approaching stomps rang out from the curved roof above them.

Both barber and baker kept on running regardless, yet after another second or so, the loud footsteps above soon turned into a  _stampede_ and it was clear from the screams and shouts that followed, that the riot was finally spreading out further and further away from Fleet Street.

_London was evolving into a savage cesspool of certifiably insane civilians._

Toby buried his head into the black leather of Sweeney's shoulder as a loud clatter erupted out from the city above them, soon followed by a smokey fizzle... it reminded him of the sound of a revolver being fired, which he knew all too well. Eleanor too found that it was hard not to feel an enormous amount of dread when a barrage of gunshots then followed, though it was clear from the way that they faded away, that the shots were  _tactical_ and in response to the riot of cannibalistic civilians tearing into each other on ground level.

They carried on running ahead regardless of the mayhem taking place, though it appeared to be all too much from Toby, and he suddenlt passed out from shock, his body heavily drooping over Sweeney's shoulder. From the added weight, the barber knew exactly what had happened, but he hadn't the time nor the care to check that he had only fainted. The boy could have  _died_ and he still wouldn't have given him an ounce of his attention.

The couple continued to hurtle themselves through the never-ending tunnel - they were surprised there were no twists and turns, but were also unbelievably thankful... it made it easier to detect if there were any assailants lying in wait for them.

Luckily, it appeared the coast was clear each time their eyes scanned the darkness for any enemy with violence on their mind.

After another ten minutes or so, both Eleanor and Sweeney were starting to have doubts about what Eva had told them - what if she was just setting them up? The logic behind her reasoning for doing such a thing was incredibly flawed, but due to their desperation, it was no wonder that they were beginning to question the authenticity of Eva Fiori.

Their doubts about the undertaker soon vanished completely however, when the eleventh minute passed by, proving their skeptical minds  _wrong..._

_There it was._

Their lifeline shone down a heavenly beam of moonlight, invading the bleak blackness of the tunnel's atmosphere. The grate that Eva had spoke of, was  _there,_ just a stone's throw away from them.

Their hearts sped up significantly, and the couple's hold on one another tightened. They could practically  _taste_ their own freedom, and couldn't deny their true happiness - they had finally reached the end of the perilous sewers...  _unscathed._

Despite their sudden optimism, anticipation bubbled within the depths of their stomachs as they both skidded to a halt, water droplets scattering in a loud gush - a noise that both Sweeney and Eleanor prayed had gone unnoticed from the street above. Their arms fell out of each other's hold, and the backs of their hands brushed as their arms fell limply to their sides.

The man-hole was surprisingly  _higher_ than the other drain-covers they'd passed, and both murderer and accomplice shared looks of worry. Neither of them were tall enough to stretch up and open it - so it was clear, someone would have to be lifted up there.

Since Toby was  _unconscious,_ that counted him out altogether. So it was left to the two of them.

Eleanor frowned at Sweeney as he averted his eyes from her in order to peer at the trickling sheet of water below his feet. He then bent down to his knees, roughly dumping the lad's incoherent form there without an ounce of kind consideration.

When he stood back to his usual height, he holstered his razor and instantly met her accusing eyes with his own - which appeared exceedingly more dangerous and daring within the surrounding shadows of the suspiciously silent sewers. She could tell that he was in no mood for her complaints about how callous he'd been with the comatose boy, and the last thing she wanted to do was to open her big mouth and cause a rift between the two of them now.

Even though she thought he could have taken more care with the lad, when she gazed back at his gleaming eyes, she couldn't deny how much she  _trusted_ him in that moment. He motioned for her to stand directly beneath the grate with a nod of his head, which she immediately obeyed, not taking her eyes away from his.

He half-crouched, extending one of his flat palms out in front of him - even though the two of them hadn't spoken a word, she knew exactly what to do. They hadn't the time to stand and chat _, it was a do or die situation._ She swiftly raised her right leg and he caught hold of the sole of her boot, pushing her leg upwards with a determined grunt. She let out a little gasp, feeling like she was going to topple over but she managed to drop her arms down so that her hands clung to his shoulders.

A few seconds later, she felt the boot on her other foot being hoisted upwards, and before she knew it, she was in reaching distance of the sewer grate above her. She took one of her hands away from Sweeney to outstretch her arm upwards, straightening her back until her fingers could curl around the metallic sections of the storm-drain - where water cascaded down without a shred of mercy.

She yanked the grate downwards and it seemed to snap loudly, like puzzle pieces had finally jolted out of place. She then pushed with all her might, and just like Eva had said, it easily opened, the heavy rain flooding in from the street above.

When she didn't appear eager to climb out, Sweeney grew impatient and firmly nudged her feet up some more to encourage her to head upwards.

"Get  _out_ for god's sake!" he growled, his voice deep and quite obviously exasperated - there was no time for any  _mistakes._ She was a little surprised at his outburst, it had been some time since either of them had spoken... she hadn't realised that she'd missed the sound of his voice until that moment.

In response, she used her free hand to grip the rusted edge of the drain, which was integrated within the thick street floor - it was also becoming  _precariously_ slippery from the trickling water coating it. Nevertheless, she managed to hoist herself up with one arm, but soon reached up her other to drag herself out of the sewers and onto the cold, wet cobbles of the alleyway above.

She laid there a moment, not caring about the stream of rain beating down on her form, droplets coating her auburn hair and pale complexion.

_They'd made it._

It was only when her lover's raspy voice called her name that she quickly scrambled across the floor, brown eyes wide as she lept up to her feet. She peered down at Sweeney, swallowing the lump in her throat and ignoring the immense wave of warmth that washed over her as he held Toby by the sides of his ribs...

...  _offering_ the lad, rather like how someone would give their other-half a  _gift._

Ignoring her internal joy at how self-less the barber was being (it was unlikely that  _he_ saw it as an act of  _kindness)_ , Eleanor reached both of her arms down, leaning towards the darkness again as Sweeney lifted the lad higher and higher. As soon as her hands clutched at the boy's shoulders, she pulled him towards her - from how fast he collapsed against her skirts, it was clear that Sweeney had shoved him the rest of the way up.

Now wincing at the sight of the lad slumped across the cobbles with lips that were slowly turning blue, she muttered curses to herself as more and more unrelenting rain-drops pummelled his unaware form...

She shrugged off her leather-satchel for a moment and started to unbutton her top-coat. Once she managed to pull it from her person, she wrapped it tightly around his torso, in hopes that it would generate some warmth around him.

_"Eleanor!"_

Sweeney must have been calling out to her for some time because his voice was slightly irritated and due to that, she could only rush back to the open drain, her auburn locks sodden and stuck to the sides of her face. She felt absolutely  _freezing_ now, but she couldn't have the boy unknowingly suffering from the cold.

She reached her arms down again and caught hold of one of Sweeney's forearms, clenching her teeth as she pulled him towards her with all her strength. Luckily, it didn't take much for him to ascend, at least, her help had been enough to grab hold of the drain's ledge with one of his hands - the other soon joined and she stood back, in awe of the power in his arms as his legs swung to-and-fro. He grunted lowly as his flat palms pushed against the sodden surface above him.

It was only a matter of  _split-seconds_ until his head emerged from the drain, and his entire neck and torso soon followed. He crawled the rest of his way out, his trench-coat scraping over the chiselled cobbles as he snaked himself out of the sewers completely.

He'd made his escape look seemingly  _effortless,_ and Eleanor stood there shivering, her arms hugging around herself as the rain soaked her through entirely. She watched him stand to his feet through her rain-sodden eyelashes, a sigh of relief pushing out of her once she saw him bend down again to securely lock the grate back in its rightful place.

Once he'd double-checked the drain, he pivoted around to face her, his black hair already drenched and dripping from the downpour of rain. He squinted his eyes at her, internally angry at the sight of her without her coat. Immediately, he snarled and began to remove his own trench-coat, to which she whimpered out in confusion - she couldn't quite muster her vocal-chords to work.

Now clad in everything but his coat, he stormed towards her, wearing an unimpressed scowl as he forced the long coat around her.

 _"Stupid bloody woman."_ he whispered in annoyance, feeling the rain already soaking through his clothes. She could detect that he was perhaps still emotionally-hurting from the way he winced as he bent down and quickly picked up her leather-satchel, quickly looping the strap around her shoulder.

He adjusted his own bag firmly over his shoulder, though their eyes were still glued to each other, water droplets belting down upon them like the weather could sense both the joy and sadness within their hearts.

Sweeney was the one to break their connection, his gaze falling to the ground beneath his feet before he abruptly turned away, already heading towards Toby so that he could drape the lad over his shoulder again. Once the unconscious child was in place again, Eleanor didn't waste anymore time and led the way, knowing that he wouldn't be far behind.

There was a small clearing at the end of the alley-way ahead, which appeared to be a main road of some sort. As they both got closer, they soon found themselves feeling a little relieved - they had slight cover from the rain now that they were beneath a veranda of bricks (due to the two buildings either side of them being so crammed together, it created some shelter).

Pressing herself close to the slimy brickwork to keep herself unnoticed, Eleanor cautiously peered around the edge of the building - the street was completely deserted, which was incredibly  _disconcerting..._ until she laid her eyes upon a coach directly parked across from where she was.

There was no way that Eva had been lying about what she'd told them - everything was just as she'd said so far, and for that reason, Eleanor could only swallow down her urge to let her tears fall.

As soon as she briefly glanced back towards Sweeney, who had almost reached her, she motioned for him to hurry - now that the stagecoach was in viewing distance, there was so much hope welling inside of her. Eleanor couldn't hide the expression of excited relief over her features any longer, and she shot out of the dimly lit alley. She heard the dense splashes of the barber's feet behind her, and she inhaled deeply, internally praying that they were in the clear.

It was all like some horrific  _nightmare,_ even when she scrambled those last few steps towards the door to the stagecoach, her heart was in her mouth as the driver asked her where she was headed. She hadn't a clue.  _What was she to say?_

Before her mouth could ask for her mind's clarification, Eva's name tumbled out through her lips in a confident whisper. When the man only nodded in understanding, her claws ripped the door open. There was no time to lose.

The driver sat up straight, manning the reins. His top-hat was tipped over his eyes to act as an umbrella, and he seemed quite concerned when he saw the dishevelled and intimidating sight of the barber sprinting across the street, all so he could follow the direction of the baker - it did look rather  _suspicious,_ considering he was lugging a  _young boy_ over his shoulder.

Nevertheless, once all of his passengers were inside, and the door was firmly slammed shut, he snapped the reins, gripping the ends of them in his snugly gloved hands.

This was a favour that he'd never wanted to pay back to Miss Fiori.

The driver was blissfully ignorant to who his passengers were, and what they were actually doing in his carriage at that moment in time. He knew that it was likely it was going to stay that way until they reached a point of safety -  _or perhaps he'd never know at all._

Sweeney slung the lad's body down over one side of seats, not showing an ounce of disdain for once... despite his rather harsh demeanour. Eleanor shot him an annoyed glance at how careless he was with the boy, wrapping Sweeney's trench-coat around her shoulders slightly tighter as she sunk back into one of the seats opposite. The seats weren't particularly  _comfortable,_ but she was beyond caring.

They were finally  _leaving,_ and that's all that mattered.

There was a sad silence that emerged when Sweeney sat beside her - the only sounds were the rattling motion of the coach and the deep pants of the two coherent passengers, who were still attempting to catch their breath.

It was like the two lovers were ignoring one another at first, but that wasn't entirely any surprise. So much had happened within the space of such a small amount of time that they needed to settle themselves down in their own minds, at least, before they  _conversed_ on the matter.

If Eleanor wasn't so fixated on the squalor of London they were leaving behind, brown eyes hooded as she lost herself in the small window to her left... She would have witnessed undeniable torture within the blackness of Sweeney's shimmering eyes. He couldn't bring himself to peer out of the window like her - he could only imagine what horrors he would see. He'd just escaped another nightmare - but had lost another family member to the grisly city of London in return.

The place was a  _hell-mouth_ in his eyes. It was somewhere he needed to forget about.

It was like a second wave of grief was hitting him as he thought back to the expression of bravery that Eva had worn, plain for him to see. He knew from that memory alone, that it was highly unlikely that he would ever lay eyes on her ever again.

_He hadn't wanted to make the same mistakes. He'd wanted his daughter by his side._

Whilst Mr Todd sat stiffly, his black hair in sodden rags and still pressed against his face as he vacantly gazed down at his damp lap, Eleanor was glued to the state of the streets they passed by.

The city was dark, dreary and dismal, like it usually was on a Winter evening, on the approach to eleven, maybe even twelve at night. But something Eleanor had noticed, now that they were travelling away from the outskirts of Fleet Street and the Strand, was that the street that they were on currently, was completely devoid of anyone.

She didn't let Sweeney know of her speculations - and she certainly didn't a few minutes later, when she soon gazed upon the answer to her worries.

The more and more she looked upon the alleys and streets that filtered away from her shop, she always found one thing in common, even if it was a split second that she flicked her eyes towards them. The majority of exits and entrances had been drastically cordoned off... in some cases,  _barricaded_ off.

Was the uproar of the public something that the city was  _expecting?_

That very question lingered in her mind, and soon twisted once they passed another junction. Another one that had been blocked off... only there were patrolling constables pacing up and down to make sure no one was anywhere near.

Not even the  _authorities_ knew what to do, apparently. All they could do was trap all of the feral humans together, in a demented hope that they'd all tear each other to pieces.

Sweeney lifted his gaze from his trousers and instead rested them on Eleanor, noticing how tense she was sitting. Knowing that it was something she'd seen, he followed the direction of her eyes and too, witnessed each and every street surrounding Fleet Street, which were completely sealed off from the rest of the city.

They were too numbed by those harrowing scenes, that they found it impossible to react - their threshold for more trauma and the true ugliness of the world had finally snapped. They found the sight hardly surprising anymore.

Now that they were leaving London altogether, the corruption was none of their concern anymore. Hence, neither one of them spoke, nor reacted to the scenes they were now swiftly leaving behind.

After some time, they found the silence to be too suffering. Even Sweeney loathed the two of them being confined to the restraints of their personal bubbles, and he finally decided to take action.

He expelled a deep huff of defear and slowly slid his arm around Eleanor. She immediately sidled next to him as his arm wrapped around the back of her shoulders, and she swivelled her top-half around so that she faced him squarely. He leaned closer to her, dipping his head down so that his mouth brushed against hers.

It was only a few seconds, before their damp lips finally touched. Their eyes closed and she hooked her arms around his neck, only making it easier for him to pull her in closer.

It was like everything was a warped version of a scene that had played out between them before.

Only this time, the kiss they shared wasn't a game of dominance at all. It was something that showed such  _honesty,_ such  _comfort,_ such  _trust_ between them that they couldn't quite bring themselves to stop.

They'd gotten away with it, with  _everything._

And it was finally like bloody curtains were slowly crossing paths, signalling their first act to draw to a close...

Curtains that were only lying in wait to be opened, so that another diabolical act could begin.


	43. Ambiguous

He must have fallen asleep at some point.

It was a  _ridiculous_ thing to do, even for him.

Yet the lull of the horses hooves beneath them, the dim flickering of the lit oil-lamp and the slight shudder of the hollow carriage walls forced his eyes to droop shut. It wasn't long before he was slumped against the wall of the coach, utterly disconnected from the traumatic truth of reality.

Sweeney Todd was completely exhausted.

He never usually gave away his tiredness, even if most of the time the bruised grey around his eyes told all. Yet after the events he'd witnessed that night, he was beyond caring.

Eleanor too, had become victim to sleep and pressed her left side up to the barber in order that she could rest her head on his shoulder. She still had Mr Todd's trench-coat wrapped around her like it was some sort of snug blanket. Even though she was mostly incoherent within her slumber, she could still feel the warmth of the man sat next to her, and that was enough comfort for her to seize those precious minutes of sleep.

It was after a couple of hours when the barber finally found his eyelids loosening. He instantly became very aware of the auburn-haired woman clinging to his person - he really didn't mind, he was thankful for some kind of warmth now that a cruel draft had seeped in through the cracks in the stagecoach's timbers.

He heard the tempting whisperings of sleep beckoning him to give in again through the faint golden glow of the carriage, but he willed himself to keep his eyes open.

His black eyes trailed towards the glass window pane a few timbers away from where his head rested against the wooden wall. He wasn't entirely sure what he anticipated seeing there, but he was internally unnerved when all he could see was the entire expanse outside painted a thick, dense black.

They'd likely been travelling for a great deal of hours now, yet the blanket of obsidian still clung to the night sky like some uninvited germ. The darkness was distracting and ever-lingering, reminding those awake just how intense and unforgiving it could be.

Like Eleanor had sensed that the man beside her was now awake in some sort of fashion, she quietly cracked open her eyes. She didn't even feel the need to shift herself away from him and from that feeling alone, she could tell that Sweeney was likely feeling the same too.

Quite clearly finding the silence between them unbearable, she inhaled sharply and moved her head a fraction.

"Where are we?" Eleanor breathed out - she was so unusually quiet that he only just heard her. Even she felt out of place disturbing the prolonging silence, but she knew that it had to shatter at some point.

He continued to miserably stare out into the abyss of black outside, ignoring her ridiculous question. He didn't intend to snub her on purpose but his mind was so fatigued with trying to comprehend the events of that night, that he found her voice to be something that only soothed his subconscious.

Eleanor winced when at least a minute had passed since she'd uttered her question, knowing full well that the man was likely lost in his cramped maze of wounded thoughts.

"Where are we even 'eaded?" she pressed, even though part of her knew she may have never gotten her desired answer from him.

"North." he reluctantly murmured tiredly, like saying one word was even too much effort for him. "We're 'eadin' North."

"And wot's 'at s'posed to mean?!" she whispered fiercely, finally straightening herself up to give him a bitter glare. She was sick of their future being some great big ambiguous  _question mark._ After all, she was a woman who liked certainty and she couldn't stand the constant dreaded state of suspense they seemed to be stuck in.

" 'Ow the bloody 'ell should I know?" he replied, raising his volume up a notch so that his harsh voice finally broke through into his whisper.

She knew that he really didn't want to talk right now, but being the pushy woman she was, she couldn't allow him to stay disconnected.

"Well, we 'ave to know wot's t'come, Mr T." she breathed out, earning a cold stare from him in return. "We're still not entirely in the clear, so's we've gotta keep a few steps ahead all the time or else we're gonna slip up, ain't we?"

He stayed quiet yet slowly turned his head to face her, staring her down in hopes that she'd tire of trying to wear down his stubborn outlook.

His hopes were in vain.

"An' what of the boy?" he asked with a slight bluntness to his consonants, narrowing his eyes as they flicked away from her to settle on the lad, who was still curled up on the bench opposite them with Mrs Lovett's winter coat draped around his shoulders -  _he hadn't moved a muscle._

Eleanor's eyes faltered over the barber's suddenly sharper-looking features, from his expression alone she secretly knew what he was inferring.

 _"The boy?_ Wot does 'e 'ave t'do wi' this?"

At the sound of her slightly wobbly tone of voice, Sweeney slowly turned his head to face the concerned woman sat beside him. His expression was deadly serious and she couldn't help feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end - his aura was suddenly incredibly  _haunting._

"Well once 'e gets to some place safe, whose t'say 'e won't go to the law? The lad cannot be trusted, Eleanor."

 _"Wot?!_ O'course 'e can!" she shrieked as quietly as she could, shooting the sleeping lad a worried glance.

"You're  _deluding_ yourself, Mrs Lovett." he snapped, shuffling away from her as much as he could, like he couldn't stand being so close to her. "That boy needs  _putting down."_

He rested his head against the wall again, feeling his eyelids drooping closed.

_He'd had enough._

Eleanor, however, was in no state to fall into slumber and she grabbed hold of the lapels of his waistcoat, yanking him towards her.

"I am  _not_ deluded, Mr Todd. That boy ain't gonna say  _anythin',_ mark my words. An' I certainly ain't gonna let you 'arm a single 'air on that lad's 'ead!"

"Now, now, don't raise your voice so much, 'e might just  _wake up._ That would be very  _inconsiderate_ of you." he murmured in a spiteful tease, inching his face closer to hers so that the bridges of their noses brushed.

"Wot's gotten inta you?!" she whispered, searching his eyes like she would find some kind of maddening answer. Instead, his black irises gleamed with amusement like he found her discomfort entertaining... she'd forgotten how sadistic the infuriating man could be at times.

"It would be  _easy,_ you know."

"Wot? Wot  _are_ you on about, Mr T?" she questioned as her eyebrows knitted together in a concerned wince.

"It would be easy. The whelp's sleepin'. A little nick an' 'e'll be gone. Probably wouldn't even feel a thing." he whispered, not even flinching his features as his mouth curled into a small smirk.

Her eyes widened as her peripheral vision suddenly caught glimpse of movement from his trouser pocket.

 _"No!_ Don't you even  _dare."_

She lunged forward and the trench-coat fell away from her shoulders as she clamped her hand around his forearm in a vice-like grip. He was now inept at drawing out his razor and he clenched his jaw, lightly growling as his black eyes burnt holes into her chocolate orbs.

 _"Fine."_ he snarled, and she felt all tension in his arm cease though his eyes still threatened to punish her for getting in the way of his murderous intentions.

Eleanor took her hand away from him but almost gasped out when the same arm she'd been holding onto lifted slightly so that he could entwine his fingers with hers. So  _tightly_ that it was almost painful.

"I am only concerned, Eleanor, understand?" he whispered as his eyes softened slightly, which was something she could only get distracted by. "If 'e's to stay alive then we 'ave to do somethin' about 'im or the first chance 'e gets, that boy'll be runnin' to the law. He 'as somethin' against us both now so there's no chance of 'im keepin' it to 'imself."

"Ya really believe 'e's out t'get ya, don't ya?"

"Because he  _is._ That is nothing but  _fact,_ Eleanor." he snapped, adding more pressure to her fingers with his own.

"Then... we make 'im think tonight were a dream." she whispered hurriedly in an attempt to make him stop squeezing her hand so cruelly.

"What? And 'ow do we explain our whereabouts? You really 'aven't thought this through - "

He shifted his arm back towards his pocket where his razor was situated and Eleanor's fingers added more pressure around his instead, just like he'd done to her moments before.

It was then, that Sweeney took notice of the small smirk she wore - her sly expression caught him off-guard and made him adorn a bewildered frown.

"Oh don't you worry yaself over that, love." she whispered. "We can just say that we've 'ad us leavin' London planned for a long while, 'e's always been right forgetful so 'e wouldn't even question it. The idea of leavin' 'ome for 'im would be traumatic, an' though it breaks me 'eart, I'd rather 'im think wot's 'appened is some awful nightmare than 'is true reality."

Sweeney tried to mask his eyes, which were filled with undeniable admiration for her as he nodded in response. Naturally he failed, but Eleanor didn't let on that she recognised the fondness for her in his eyes.

"You know that 'e'll believe anythin' you tell 'im. Even if you told 'im we were relocatin' to the middle of the ocean." he finally replied sincerely, though his eyes appeared to be far-away now that he searched her eyes.

She let out a quiet chuckle, which seemed to take Sweeney by surprise - it was like the mood of sincerity between them was quickly morphing into something different. Not that either of them minded.

As his frown deepened, Eleanor took the opportunity to confidently lean forward and press her warm lips against his. His puzzlement soon softened and he immediately reacted back to her, pulling her closer to him as their kiss slowed and deepened.

She could feel his lips slowly manipulating around hers in a little smirk and she felt her heart racing as his hands found their way beneath the confines of his trench-coat. His conniving fingertips skimmed across her front but it was clear from how his smirk spread wider, that his intention was never to further his daring actions.

His fingers ran over her again as his kisses successfully distracted her - it was just enough so that he could subtly drag a portion of his trench-coat away from her to cover him instead. His deviousness had been pointless because he felt her mouth curl into a smile against his lips, and that was enough to make him feel slightly stupid... it seemed that she was slowly wearing him down, whether he was conscious of it or not.

Their mouths soon parted ways, but only so they could carefully study one another before Sweeney pulled her in closer. His actions confused her slightly because it was difficult to read what his intentions were, considering that the man had more warm material covering him now that she was hugging to his side. Nevertheless, she ignored her internal nagging and snuggled up to him, already shutting her eyes from the first real sense of calm that she'd felt for quite some time.

Just as their slumber grasped hold of their consciousness once again, the carriage came to an abrupt  _halt._

The hooves skidded, the walls shook and the disturbing silence that followed would have made anyone sense that something was  _off._

Sweeney's eyes bolted open and he instinctively tightened his arms around Eleanor, which naturally forced her to awaken too. It was irrational for them to stay still when they were in the middle of nowhere... especially at  _god knows_ what hour, so it was no wonder that they were both concerned.

The two of them kept quiet, but their eyes were wide and their ears were pricked up with panic. They held onto each other tightly, yet it wasn't because they shared a form of comfort from one another - it was purely out of  _survival._ As they sat silently clinging to one another in hopes they would hear something to explain their situation, they failed to notice the audible sound of something scraping...  _scraping against wood._  It was so delicate a sound that only an adrenaline-induced ear would have been able to make it out.

Sweeney set his jaw and lowered his head so that he could rest his chin on Eleanor's forehead. He hated how tense she'd become and wished to console her somehow, but he didn't really know where to start. She could sense his inexperience where comfort was concerned and fumbled beneath his coat so that she could snatch hold of his waistcoat's lapels, like she just needed to make sure he really was there next to her.

_Perhaps the poor woman thought one of her dreams had suddenly darkened into some kind of distorted nightmare._

Unbeknownst to them, as their embrace became firmer and firmer, something  _macabre_ was occurring.

It was apparent due to the thin rivers of red liquid which idly dripped down the window situated out of their line of sight, decorating the carriage nicely with what little life-source it had left to feed from. It would have only taken  _one_ of them to notice for a new state of panic to set in, but neither barber or baker was focused enough to pay attention.

Tiredness and the embrace of a lover combined together to make the perfect intoxicating  _poison._ A poison that was conniving enough to momentarily blind their attention spans.

But that didn't stop Sweeney from debating with his conscience.

On the one hand he wished to find out whether the sudden stop in the dark was some sort of twisted  _prank_ concocted by the driver. Yet, on the other, he didn't want to push Eleanor away - from how fiercely she had hold of him, it was obvious how on edge the woman was. He couldn't bear taking himself away from her, but he had to know what was causing their hold up.

As soon as he shifted forwards in an attempt to lightly push Eleanor away from him...

... the stage-coach eerily began to move again.

The rumbling motion of the wheels beneath them made the baker lift her head so that the two of them could stare at each other blankly.

They were both still apprehensively curious about what had caused them to halt completely... but there really wasn't a  _problem_ if they were moving again...

_... was there?_


	44. Subtle Rivalry

They were completely alone.

Abandoned, some might say.

Stuck in the middle of what appeared to be  _nowhere,_ too trapped under the dreadful influence of slumber to care, or even be aware of what was truly going on around them.

Their driver was nowhere to be seen, nor heard. Given the congealed blood that had only streamed further down one of the cracked window panes, there had certainly been violent fractures of foul play. It really wouldn't have been a surprise if the driver had turned up dead in a ditch somewhere nearby, if one was so inclined to look, of course. Yet the fugitives within the carriage were too far-gone with exhaustion to dare open an eyelid, let alone discover their new dilemma.

A dilemma in which their desperate means of transporation was lodged down a convenient  _trench,_ which acted like a defensive moat considering that it was located beside a decaying brick wall. A dauntingly  _high_ wall too, which shielded a rather established-looking stately home from any peeping eyes.

They were certainly in some god-awful remote location, somewhere so off the beaten track that it would be impossible for them to navigate anywhere...  _successfully,_ at least.

Despite their slowly bubbling boiling-pot of burden, at least the place was peaceful - peaceful enough that it didn't disrupt their sleep.

_Clang._

But, as most peaceful times were for Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett, their cherished silence had finally come to a battering end.

_Clang. Clang._

_"What d'ya think this is, eh?"_ an unknown shout erupted with a voice thickened with disgust - in fact, the person's tone was so harsh that it was almost as coarse as the clatters of dense metal that joined it.

In a tired stupor, Sweeney quickly tried to make sense of his surroundings. The constant harsh banging on the outer panels of the carriage sent him into an instant state of discomfort, but he still couldn't bring himself to awaken fully. Eleanor was still soundly asleep and clinging onto him - apparently she was a heavy sleeper, unlike him. Yet with the racket banging away outside, it was rather concerning that she didn't seem to budge.

As soon as the barber caught onto what was actually happening, he broke free from Eleanor's grasp on him and sprang out of his seat. Glowering out of the window closest to him (luckily the one that was devoid of any blood spatter) and already taking on his favourite intimidating expression, he attempted to peer out and find the rude source of his sudden awakening.

As he surveyed the area on the other side of the glass with his hardened black eyes, Eleanor was finally stirring. The cold had hit her as soon as he'd left her side, so it was no wonder that she finally decided to wake up.

As soon as her brown eyes cracked open, she was desperate to bid her partner-in-crime "Good Morning" but her pleasant smile soon fell when she spotted Sweeney half-bent in front of her. If she hadn't been so concerned she was sure she would have laughed at the sight of him - he was ducking down and leering like some kind of  _hermit_ just so that he could see clearly out of the small window.

After a moment, he turned to face her with a stern expression. His appearance only added to his crazed look, yet somehow it managed to set her heart racing excitedly despite the seriousness of the situation. Although he'd said nothing, she knew that someone must have been out there from the way the inky-black of his eyes studied her - it was unrelenting, just like it had been the night before.

Her own eyes faltered in response and all she could do was let out a little pant of depression. All these intense situations were getting far too much to bear, but she wasn't about to stop him from protecting them if he had to.

Without a flicker of movement in his eyes, Sweeney turned away from her... and strangely,  _hesitated._

His mind was completely fried from the night before. He wasn't even sure what he was doing, or what he wanted anymore. Nothing was certain, and for that reason, he felt  _colder._

The sound of muffled movement behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder, and more swiftly than he'd expected, Eleanor placed a hand over his shoulder...

Sweeney was the first to cautiously exit the vehicle.

His black hair was more unkempt than usual much to his dismay, as was his attire, so it was no wonder that as soon as he met the world outside, the green eyes of a stranger glared upon him with suspicion.

What made the scene look even  _worse,_ however, was when Eleanor decided to follow him out too - and naturally, given their dishevelled clothing... the stranger was soon keen on joining the dots together, even if his thought process was incredibly  _skewed._

"I don't  _believe_ this! Frolockin' in broad daylight!" the man yelled, tipping the butt of whatever wince-worthy weapon he held (which he'd previously been using to smack against the coach) so that he was able to rest it over his shoulderblade.

The stranger wasn't very articulate with his words, nor did his face look kind or intuitive. It was clear that his clothes would have once been  _exquisite_ due to the slight sheen of the silk material, but from the frayed seams of his waistcoat and the coal-stains along his shirt collar... the stranger looked like some kind of scruffy aristocrat that had forgotten how to live appropriately.

Sweeney stayed as stoic as ever, too irritated with his interruption of slumber to care what the man was insinuating. Eleanor, on the other hand, couldn't quite hide the pink that coated her pale cheeks.

_"You do realise that you's are on private property?!"_

For some reason both barber and baker could sense that the strange man was about to unleash an abusive rant towards them (then again, maybe it was just his accent?), so they both took a side-step towards each other closely until they were brushing arms. By keeping near together they had more chance of reacting more successfully if the man was to try anything  _funny._

"Not to mention," the man continued in a blunder of words, sniffing like the two of them were somehow being inconsiderate even though neither of them had uttered a peep. "you've spilled  _blood_ on my grounds an' all! How is it that you are goin' to get out of that one, hm? What d'ya think is an  _adequate_ explanation?!"

Both Sweeney and Eleanor exchanged concerned glances - thankfully their apprehensive actions seemed to go amiss to the stranger. If the man  _had_ noticed then they would be even more worried considering that they could already tell he was somewhat  _unhinged_  (if the firearm he was so casually holding across his shoulder wasn't some dead  _giveaway,_ they didn't know what else was _)._

"We 'it a deer on the way 'ere. We tried washin' all the blood off but it tends t'stain wood." Eleanor lied in a strangely confident tone as her brown irises cut into the man in a defiant manner.

"A  _deer?_ Y'best've shot it once you 'it it. Makes fer a nice meal." the man replied bluntly as his eyes flashed threateningly back at her, and she was quite taken aback when she felt Sweeney's hand blindly slide into her palm. "You don't sound like y'from these parts. What's brought you 'ere?"

"We're headin' for the nearest town, mister. Only our driver's gone an' done a runner and left us rather lost. Can't quite get our bearings." she retorted shortly but fairly calmly - she'd feel safe so long as she was the one doing all the talking, Sweeney was often a liability if she allowed him to open his devious trap.

The stranger snorted and let out a throaty cough. Even his amusement seemed like he was mocking the two of them because his eyes narrowed maliciously - at this point they really wished they could outright slit his throat, but given the circumstances they weren't to take any risks.

Before Sweeney ignored the circumstances  _entirely_ and reached for that slick silver blade that was sat snugly in his pocket, the stranger spoke again...

"Well y'not far from Blackpool 'ere. Thought that were fairly obvious from the road signs not too far back - not that you's were likely payin' attention, lot of idle bums you are."

Sweeney who was worryingly silent, suddenly balled his free hand into a fist, whilst the other squeezed around Eleanor's unsuspecting palm tightly.

"W-Well we ain't familiar wi' these parts, sir. Lived in London our 'ole lives we 'ave." she attempted to explain without chancing a glance to the barber beside her... who was no doubt  _seething_ due to the rudeness of the man stood before them.

The man narrowed his eyes as he switched his gaze between the two of them.

"Ah, I thought there were somethin' funny about you's.  _Southerners,_ are ya? We don't get many of  _your_ lot up 'ere. Best be on y'way before ol' Maxwell finds lawful means t'use'is  _gun_ and blasts y'back t'whatever shit'ole you've come frum. We don't need any of your lot up 'ere, missy."

Eleanor couldn't help showing her shock and was about to push out a stubborn retort, but she was quickly cut short when Sweeney managed to interrupt her, before she said anything that she was bound to regret.

His grip on her hand slackened and she felt the pads of his fingers lightly tracing her knuckles... it was clear that, unlike her, he no longer intended to suppress what he was truly thinking, though he still appeared to be stiff-backed and rather indifferent. She could sense that he was holding back his conniving smirk and she was trying her hardest not to let out a proud chuckle despite her slight apprehension over what he was about to do.

"We'll be on our way, sir. We never intended to intrude." Sweeney stated without any emotion whatsoever, yet Eleanor knew that his flat tone usually meant more harm than good.

"Oh, I  _bet_ y'didn't."

Eleanor winced when Sweeney's hand crushed around hers once more, and that was enough of a warning for her to know she was to leave him alone with the man.

In a heartbeat, she felt him let go of her and she was already heading back to the useless carriage behind them, to retrieve the rest of their belongings. It was like his simmering anger had been some sort of subconscious alarm between the two of them - an alarm that told them to back out of the situation... unless bloody murder was an  _appropriate end_ , of course.

As an icy silence fell over the barber and the stranger, Eleanor took the opportunity to snatch up their bags and decided it was probably best to wake up the young lad - it was pointless staying in the stagecoach now it was completely inept.

_They had to keep moving._

She couldn't help a small smile gracing her lips due to how comfortable Toby looked under the influence of his slumber, all cuddled up under her thick winter jacket. However, still hearing nothing but the eerie silence from the outside of the coach, she really didn't want to them to stay there a moment longer.

She placed her hand flat over his left shoulder and lightly shook him in hopes that he was a light sleeper. His once peaceful expression mashed into one of discomfort and a wave of guilt suddenly washed over her... but it couldn't be helped, they couldn't stay there with that suspicious stranger outside.

"Wha - ?" he began to murmur but she was already beginning to pull him upwards. He let out an irritated whine of exhaustion and clawed Eleanor's jacket to himself like he was concerned that she was going to take it away from him.

When Toby became even more stubborn and planted his little shoes to the floor, Eleanor was growing slightly impatient - the longer she left Sweeney on his own with the man outside, the more nervous and jittery she'd become.

For that reason, she grabbed hold of the young lad by his forearm and pulled him towards her. There was no time to explain anything... not yet, anyway. The boy protested and panted, but her tugs were too strong and she was soon dragging him out of the carriage - he wasn't quite kicking, but he was certainly almost screaming.

"Best watch your tongue, sir." Sweeney said softly to the stranger, yet it was loud enough for both Eleanor and Toby to hear from the steps of the coach. "Where we come from, the tongues that spit  _fire_ often get sliced clean  _off."_

The man appeared to twitch and his shoulders stiffened noticeably in response to Mr Todd's words of warning. His green eyes were wide and staring back at the black flames visible in Sweeney's eyes, which were so intense, that they sparked adrenaline to rush through the man's body.

Now thoroughly uncomfortable and slightly nervous, the stranger subtly lowered his firearm, like he was attempting to aim it at the haunting man stood before him. It wasn't obvious what had truly unnerved the man - whether it was Mr Todd's appearance, confidence or demeanour was unknown... though it was clear that the man hadn't expected such brave words to tumble out from the brooding barber's grey-tinted lips.

"I'd like to remind ya that you're on  _private property - "_

"I  _know._ There's no need to tell me twice." Sweeney quipped cleverly, knowing full well that the man was utterly offended by his  _audacity._

He should have been holding his own tongue... but he couldn't resist the urge to mess with the stranger. What better way to let out his internal frustration than to snap at someone he knew nothing about?

As Sweeney was about to spew out another insult, Eleanor let out a high-pitched gasp when Toby threw her hand off him - his defense was that fierce that she'd almost fallen over... luckily she managed to remain on her feet and slowly made her way over to Sweeney, hanging her head low.

Allowing his subconscious to host his annoyance, Sweeney blindly reached out towards her and snatched both bags from her grip so that he could sling them over one of his shoulders. He didn't even break eye-contact with the shivering man stood before him... in fact, the man was shivering so much that the slight rattle of his gun was even audible.

With one last deep inhale, the demon barber let out a huff and pushed by the man's shoulder - from the determination in his strides, it was clear that he was confident that Eleanor was sure to follow.

Eleanor wrapped Sweeney's coat more firmly around her form, and trailed behind him as fast as she could. She risked a glance back though, and ended up beaming an apologetic smile as Toby wearily, and reluctantly, trundled after them , with wisps of brown hair stuck up and eyes rimmed with grey insomnia. To any bystander the poor lad looked like he'd survived a living nightmare...

He dared not question where they were.

As long as he was away from that city of nightmares, he knew he'd been  _safe..._

... at the very  _least._

**_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _**

It wasn't the vibrant cyan-blue as she'd dreamed.

It was an ominous navy... perhaps even a deep  _grey_ at best. The sand only complimented the sullen sheen to the rough waves, instead of the exotic golden sands that she'd pictured. The bay was impossibly flat and stretched out for what seemed like infinity.

Despite the tinier details being a stark contrast to what she'd envisioned in her fantasies, somehow, the warped reality of the bay, was far  _better._

She was excited,  _no,_ absolutely  _elated_ and hurriedly skipped across the promenade - to Sweeney, her energy was utterly  _astounding_ considering they'd been walking for what seemed like hours on end. Yet there she was, effortlessly twirling around in that heavy dress like she was in her own personal fairy-tale.

"Eleanor - "

"Oh! But  _look_ at it! Look at that  _blue!_ Doncha jus' wanna dip y'toes in all 'at water! God, it's even better than I dreamed! Jus'  _think_ 'bout it Mr T! This is somewhere we can finally settle and call 'ome! S'gonna be  _wonderful,_ jus' you an' me an' - "

 _"Eleanor!_ Can you  _please_ shut your mouth for one moment?!" Sweeney snapped in jagged annoyance, slinging their bags down onto the pavement without an ounce of care. Her excitement grated his nerves - it was like she'd completely forgotten about who they were, not to mention what they were attempting to escape.

She paused as she leaned against the promenade's railings, blushing in response at his blunt outburst - she'd almost forgotten how snide the man could be, yet she knew she'd probably gone on about how lovely everything was for a while too long. She really couldn't help it, the poor woman was a step closer to completing her life-long ambition.

Yet how could she be so happy, when Toby was so very  _empty..._

He was still making his way towards the two of them, Mrs Lovett's jacket wrapped around him tightly. He really didn't want to be in their presence, but he knew he had no other choice.

Sweeney narrowed his eyes curiously at Eleanor as she studied the approaching boy. He hated seeing the sadness in her eyes... that's all the lad ever brought her, it seemed. He wasn't sure what to say to comfort her, he still couldn't quite grasp what was appropriate in that sort of situation.

"There's somethin' I have to ask you 'fore we're to go any further."

His eyes widened.

Had he really just said that  _aloud?_

He immediately cursed himself internally, this really wasn't the time, nor the place yet... he needed to slice away that heartbreak he could see so visibly in her brown eyes.

"What? Is it really 'at important?" she replied in a bitter tone, her eyes still fixated on the young lad who was slowly advancing closer and closer.

"You really  _can't_ keep your mouth  _shut,_ can you?" Sweeney mocked and that quickly caught the attention of her soulful eyes.

He smirked at her look of shock, which was obviously there due to how straight-to-the-point he'd been with her. She'd probably seen it as him trampling on her compassion, but he really couldn't have cared less.

"I thought I'd better tell you - I've been thinkin'... thinkin' that this should  _end..._ this  _'you an' me'_  lark, pet..."

 _"I beg'ya pardon?!_ Ya don't wanna be wi' me?!" she shrieked, the tears glittering in her chestnut eyes already giving away that her heart was pounding with so much hurt already.

"I never said  _that,_ now, did I?"

She looked puzzled.

"I only meant that it would only be right and  _proper_ to make us  _official,_ that's all. Otherwise we'll 'ave trouble findin' a place to stay, won't we?"

She frowned, and for a moment she was sure she'd probably fallen asleep and was imagining the whole scenario.

_Yes._

That was a completely logical explanation. She was probably still in her slumber in that dreadful carriage.

She closed her eyes and pinched right cheek...

... but he was still there when she opened them again, and his look of amusement was utterly  _priceless._

He surely wasn't asking if she wanted to -  _no._ He  _wasn't,_ surely?! After everything that had happened what had made him - ?

_"Wh-Whaa - ?!"_

She wasn't believing her ears, nor her eyes due to the sight of him stood before her, clad in everything but his coat in the chill of late January, not an ounce of dishonesty on his face. Those tired black eyes shone towards her, hitting her so deeply in her heart that she could barely contain her excitement - but she still wasn't comprehending what was happening.

His timing hadn't exactly been  _predictable_ \- she hadn't anticipated him popping the question just as they'd set foot on new territory. The fact the two of them were clutching onto nothing but hopes now that they were off to start again -  _together_  - in a completely new place, was almost  _fantastical_ , but she assured herself that his presence was incredibly  _real._

The seaside setting, the surreal atmosphere of somewhere new and his expression of faint optimism were things that were the ideal ingredients for a grand romantic gesture towards Mrs Lovett.

Then again, Sweeney Todd probably hadn't seen it that way.

"Will you be my wife, Eleanor?" he whispered sincerely, his eyes flickering slightly like he was trying to suppress his urge to show the adoration he had for her. It was ridiculous that he even tried.

Too astonished to give him a straight answer, Eleanor froze... she was unsure of how to react, though her mind screamed at her to desperately answer. Sweeney bit his lip to stop a small smirk evolving, but she could tell from his eyes that he was amused because of her.

As soon as she found the confidence to part her lips to give him her reply, a lone coach soon pulled up sharply on the stretch of byway behind them in a slow, sinister manner.

_Their moment had been interrupted._

Immediately, its unprovoked presence broke their connection and they both turned their attention to the vehicle - which looked like it was a complete  _ruin,_ with its hanging hinges and splintering spokes. It was unnerving, considering the rest of the road was completely deserted... as was the rest of the promenade.

The driver wore a hooded shroud woven from shredded black fabric to shield their face from view. They briefly angled themselves towards the barber and the baker, then motioned towards the door to the carriage with a single coal-stained digit.

Sweeney, feeling personally attacked, especially after just proposing to Eleanor, felt that he had no other choice than to  _co-operate_ with this seemingly  _generous_ driver... his reasons were seemingly non-existent, and needless to say, Eleanor was taken aback when he started to creep towards their bags he'd set down on the floor.

He wordlessly took their luggage from the sandy path below and turned to face a confused Eleanor. They didn't break their eye contact, even as Toby finally arrived at their location with a glum expression.

Never taking his eyes away from her, Sweeney stiffly turned and slung the baggage in the storage trunk. He then rotated around and his eyes gleamed with  _hope -_ such hope that she'd only ever  _dreamed_ of seeing from him.

Without a word, Toby cut between the two of them and stomped up the stairs to the carriage, swinging the door open in a stubborn fit of irritation. He bundled himself inside - so long as he was away in his own mind, he knew he'd be content for a while.

Whilst the young boy was throwing a great sulk, Sweeney had grabbed hold of Eleanor's wrist and she let out a gasp of excitement. He tugged her towards him, and pulled her up the short staircase to enter the coach along with him. The door slammed when he yanked her the rest of the way inside, and the vehicle began to move as soon as the sound of the door closing had sounded.

It was worrying how the driver already had a set destination.

Even more worrying that Sweeney seemed to be completely  _comfortable_ with this strange situation. He was already perched on the seat across from Toby (who was huddled up beneath Eleanor's coat in the corner), smirking deviously at his bewildered baker.

"Well, woman? Will you?" he whispered impatiently like he didn't wish the lad opposite to hear. She was still awkwardly stood, clearly planning to sit beside him - but he shot his arms out to link them around her waist. She gasped as he pulled her over his lap, forcing her to sit over him.

She gaped at him, swivelling around a bit more so that she could settle his lap between her open legs - luckily her skirts concealed her action from him so there wasn't much chance of him getting distracted. Her heart was pounding fiercely when she stared back at him, his amusement told her that he'd likely already worked out her answer from the pure anticipation in her eyes.

" 'Course I will, ya bleedin' idiot!" she replied in a giddy gasp and slapped his shoulder playfully, biting down on her bottom lip to hinder her torrent of giggles.

Before she had the chance to unleash her laughter, he let out a throaty chuckle, his firm hands pressing down her lower back to quietly instruct her to lean forwards. He too moved towards her, meeting her mouth with his own in a passionate exchange of an unexpectedly extravagent kiss. Her arms hooked around his neck - it seemed her actions were support for the need for him was causing her to tremble so erratically that she was afraid she may indeed faint.

Sensing that the poor woman was overwhelmed with various mind-boggling emotions all at once, he sunk down the seat, his hands sliding up to her shoulderblades to brace her into a more stable, upright position.

Though the future was uncertain for the two of them, they couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sense of excitement.

Perhaps that underlying excitement ought to have been  _apprehension._

As their kiss slowed, Sweeney briefly cracked open his eyes to shoot a dark look of victory towards Toby. The boy was quiet but held the demon barber's hawk-stare, knowing full well that the man was attempting to make him feel rather uncomfortable.

But he knew  _exactly_ what Mr Todd was. And to him, that was all that truly counted.

**The End...**

**... of ACT I.**


End file.
